ELINOR 
COLHOUSE 


AUTHOR'S  NOTE 

Elinor  Colhouse  is,  properly  speaking,  a 
prologue  to  the  previously  published  volume 
called  Richard  Kurt.  Both  form  part  of  a 
series  of  five  books,  of  which  the  third, 
called  The  Rock,  is  now  in  preparation. 

The  author  considers  each  book  to  be 
complete  in  itself,  but  he  is  moved  to  offer 
this  explanation  out  of  respect  and  considera- 
tion for  those  of  his  readers  who  are  suffi- 
ciently interested  in  the  development  of  his 
work  to  desire  to  make  further  acquaintance 
with  it. 


ELINOR  COLHOUSE 

BY  STEPHEN   HUDSON 


NEW  YORK 

ALFRED  .  A  •  KNOPF 
1922 


COPYRIGHT,  1922,  BY 

ALFRED  A.  KNOPF,  INC. 
Published,  March,  19il 


Set  up  and  printed  by  the  Vail-Ballou  Co.,  Binghamton,  N.  Y. 

Paper  (Warren't)  furnished  6»  Henry  Lindenmeyr  £  Son*,  New  York,  X.  Y. 

Bound  bit  the  //.  Wolff  Estate,  New  York,  N.  Y. 


MANUFACTURED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OF 
CHARLES  LOUIS   PHILIPPE 


2034712 


THE  morning  was  a  most  inconvenient  time 
to  receive  a  stranger,  especially  that  morn- 
ing, as  she  had  been  washing  her  hair,  and 
besides,  that  ornery  half-breed  help  never 
got  her  work  done  till  dinner-time.  But 
there  was  Richard  Kurt  waiting  down- 
stairs to  see  her.  She  began  hastily  doing 
up  her  hair,  which,  though  not  as  silky  as 
she  would  have  liked,  was  thick  and  could 
be  speedily  what  she  called  "wadged  into 
shape."  She  "wadged"  it,  therefore,  and 
put  on  her  dress,  the  fastenings  of  which 
she  had  been  altering  while  her  hair  dried. 
Pinning  down  the  front  with  various 
brooches  and  scarfpins,  gifts  from  differ- 
ent admirers,  she  read  again  the  letter  she 
had  received  the  previous  day  from  Frank 
Waters. 

"My  dear  Nell, — I've  just  unselfishly 
given  young  Richard  Kurt  a  note  of  intro- 

7 


8  ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

duction  to  you.  He's  the  nephew  of  Mr. 
Theophilus  Kurt,  President  of  the  C.  W '. 
and  M.,  who  is  now  in  London.  Richard's 
father  is  rich.  I'm  not  high-flier  enough 
for  you. 

"He  asked  if  you  were  a  flirt  and  I  told 
him,  as  you  were  the  prettiest  girl  in  the 
South,  you  might  be  with  some  people,  I 
only  knew  you  as  what  I  remain,  your  old 
friend, 

"F.  W.n 

Glancing  in  the  mirror,  she  rubbed  her 
nose  with  an  old  powder  leather  and  went 
downstairs. 

The  young  man  came  towards  her  from 
the  arm-chair  beside  the  fireplace.  He 
looked  hardly  more  than  a  boy,  tall  and 
very  slight.  The  shutters  were  half 
closed,  but  she  could  see  that  his  hair  was 
lightish,  that  his  eyes  were  dark  and  that 
he  had  a  little  fair  moustache. 

"I  hope  I  haven't  come  at  an  incon- 
venient hour,  Miss  Colhouse?"  His  ac- 
cent was  very  English. 

"Not  at  all.  I'm  delighted.  When  did 
you -arrive?"  She  dropped  gracefully  and 
so  lightly  into  the  old  arm-chair  with  a 
broken  spring  that  it  didn't  even  creak, 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE  9 

while  he  stood,  stick  and  straw  hat  in 
hand. 

"Early  this  morning.  I  thought  I'd 
come  at  once  because  I  shan't  be  staying 
long."  He  fidgeted  a  little,  then  sat  down 
at  her  suggestion. 

"Don't  you  like  Manitou?" 

"I  don't  know  it,  do  I?  It's  not  the 
sort  of  place  I  expected.  As  far  as  I  can 
make  out,  there's  no  sport  to  be  got." 

Elinor  was  prepared  for  this  point  of 
view.  In  New  York,  those  who  were  not 
sportsmen  talked  as  though  they  were. 

"Do  you  hunt  in  England?"  She  asked 
the  question  as  though  it  didn't  make  any 
difference  whether  he  did  or  not,  but  New 
York  had  taught  her  that  the  hunting 
brand  was  the  best. 

"When  I  get  the  chance." 

"I  suppose  your  people  do." 

He  laughed.  "You  should  see  the 
governor  on  a  horse." 

"Your  father  isn't  a  sportsman  then?" 

"Well,  you  see,  his  idea  of  riding  is 
what  he  learnt  when  he  came  to  London 
as  a  boy  and  rode  in  the  Park  on  Sundays. 
He  hasn't  got  any  seat  at  all.  Now 
mother  can  ride.  She's  got  a  perfect  seat 
and  hands;  she's  a  born  horsewoman." 


10         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

He  spoke  eagerly.  She  felt  he  had  a  lot 
to  say  about  his  mother. 

"Where  did  she  learn?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  Picked  it  up,  I 
suppose." 

She  was  puzzled.  What  did  he  mean 
by  picking  it  up  ?  "I  suppose  she  lived  in 
the  country?" 

"I  don't  know  where  mother  lived  be- 
fore she  married  the  governor."  His  eyes 
were  dark  and  penetrating  when  hers  met 
them,  but  he  frequently  looked  away,  as 
though  he  thought  he  was  staring.  He 
spoke  very  distinctly  and  his  manner  was 
eager  and  jerky,  with  an  occasional  nerv- 
ous gesture. 

In  answer  to  his  inquiry  she  told  him 
she  lived  in  Waterville  but  had  just  come 
from  New  York,  where  she  had  been  visit- 
ing a  friend.  She  was  aware  he  was 
looking  at  her  closely  though  she  pre- 
tended not  to  notice.  He  appeared  to 
have  nothing  more  to  say  and  she  gazed 
towards  the  opening  in  the  half-shuttered 
window.  He  was  on  her  left,  the  best 
side  of  her  profile,  as  it  happened,  though 
both  were  so  good  it  hardly  mattered. 
She  sat  back  with  grace  in  the  low  arm- 
chair, her  arms,  bare  to  the  elbow,  along 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE          II 

the  sides  and  her  tapering  fingers  clasp- 
ing the  edges.  Her  dress  was  a  little 
open  at  the  neck  and  her  breast  rose  and 
fell  rhythmically.  She  turned,  creating 
another  pose,  as  he  got  up. 

"I  must  be  going;  it's  lunch-time.  May 
I  come  back  this  afternoon?  I  should  like 
to  call  on  Mrs.  Colhouse." 

She  restrained  any  sign  of  satisfaction. 
"My  mother  will  be  very  pleased.  We 
could  go  for  a  walk  if  you  like  and  come 
back  here  after." 

"I  should  love  to."  He  went  lightly 
to  the  door,  opening  it  to  a  flood  of  sun- 
shine which  lit  up  his  light,  straight  hair 
and  made  him  look  younger  than  ever. 

But  it  was  the  impression  she  made  on 
him  that  mattered  and  she  hoped  he  had 
taken  an  alluring  portrait  away  with  him. 

ii 

Her  bedroom  window  commanded  the 
path  which  was  a  short  cut  to  the  hotel 
and  she  watched  him  from  behind  the 
curtain.  Again  his  extreme  youthfulness 
struck  her;  he  did  not  look  more  than 
eighteen.  His  figure  was  unmistakably 
that  of  a  gentleman;  his  loose-fitting  tweed 
suit  and  brown  shoes  were  un-American. 


12          ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

Her  self-made  blue  dimity  dress  was 
suitable  for  a  short  walk  on  a  summer 
afternoon.  Its  flimsiness  set  off  her  slight, 
graceful  figure;  the  open  neck  edged  with 
lace  displayed  her  mellow  olive  skin.  The 
red  roses  drooping  over  the  brim  of  her 
leghorn  hat  against  her  blue-black  hair 
matched  the  touch  of  artifice  on  her  lips 
and  cheeks.  Two  dark  red  roses  lay  on 
the  dressing-table,  and  as  she  entered  the 
sitting-room  she  held  them  to  her  finely 
cut  nostrils,  standing  on  the  threshold 
while  he  came  towards  her.  His  ad- 
miration, though  restrained,  was  obvious. 
Any  man  she  knew  would  have  greeted 
her  with  a  flattering  allusion  to  what  she 
was  aware  was  an  artistic  presentation  of 
herself.  He  made  none. 

"How  kind  of  you  to  take  me  out,  but 
it's  awfully  hot  for  a  walk." 

"We  needn't  go  far  and  we  can  sit  down 
somewhere  in  the  shade." 

They  strolled  by  the  side  of  the  lake 
till  they  reached  a  small  path  which  led 
upwards  gently,  through  stretches  of 
heather,  to  a  timber  gate  with  pine-trees 
on  either  side.  They  had  hardly  spoken 
till  she  asked  him  to  lift  the  top  bars. 
Slightly  raising  her  skirt,  she  gave  a 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE         13 

little  run  and,  touching  the  lowest  bar 
lightly  with  her  foot,  bounded  forward 
like  a  bird.  A  few  steps  farther  on  were 
some  felled  fir-trees  to  which  she  pointed 
with  her  parasol. 

"You  mustn't  sit  on  them  in  that  pretty 
dress."  He  threw  off  his  jacket  and  laid 
it  where  she  could  sit  with  comfort.  She 
disposed  herself  gracefully  and  he  threw 
himself  down  beside  her. 

"Do  you  think  you  can  bear  a  day  or 
two  longer  here?"  She  gazed  down  at 
him  with  a  demure  expression  in  her  large 
dark  eyes. 

"Of  course,  this  is  delightful,"  he  broke 
off  lamely.  "Do  you  mind  my  smoking 
a  pipe?" 

"No;  I  like  them."  No  American  she 
knew  smoked  a  pipe. 

"I'm  sorry,  the  pouch  is  in  the  pocket 
—may  I?" 

She  moved  herself  just  enough  for  him 
to  feel  in  the  pocket;  in  extracting  the 
pouch  he  had  to  put  his  hand  partly  under 
her  thigh  and  he  flushed. 

She  took  no  notice  of  his  embarrass- 
ment and  lay  back,  displaying  carelessly 
a  shapely  silk-clad  calf.  He  lit  his  pipe 
and  leant  his  back  against  the  log  upon 


14         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

which  she  was  sitting.  A  minute  passed; 
neither  spoke.  A  bird  called  in  the  dis- 
tance, another  answered  it,  there  was  a 
faint  lapping  of  water  from  the  lake 
beyond.  He  jumped  up  and  stood  facing 
her. 

"I  don't  mean  to  fall  in  love  with  you, 
you  know." 

She  lifted  her  face  slowly  and  smiled. 

"Who  thought  about  such  a  thing,  Mr. 
Kurt?"  It  was  the  first  time  she  had 
given  him  a  name. 

"I've  thought  about  it.  How  can  one 
help  it  when  one's  with  you?" 

"That's  very  flattering."  Her  tone 
was  bantering. 

"Don't  laugh  at  me.  I  want  to  be 
friends  with  you  but  I  don't  want  to  flirt. 
I  don't  know  how  to.  I  always  wonder 
what  these  Americans  say  to  girls.  They 
seem  to  be  able  to  go  on  all  day  every 
day  talking  to  them.  What  on  earth  do 
they  talk  about  ?  What  am  I  to  talk  to  you 
about?"  He  looked  her  squarely  in  the 
eyes. 

She  laughed  but  she  knew  it  was  not  the 
right  laugh  for  the  occasion.  Her  laugh 
was  a  source  of  anxiety.  She  couldn't 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE           15 

get  it  right,  though  she  had  made  a 
special  study  of  it  even  at  theatres. 

"Tell  me  about  your  life  in  England. 
I'd  love  to  hear  about  that." 

She  indicated  that  he  should  sit  down 
beside  her  again.  He  did  so,  pulling 
valiantly  at  his  pipe. 

"I  don't  know  where  to  begin.  Besides, 
I've  been  gone  a  year." 

"Have  you  been  a  year  in  Cliftonburg?" 

"No;  thank  God.  I  was  in  Canada  for 
nine  months  with  Billy  Kartwright." 

"Do  you  mean  Sir  William  Leicester 
Kartwright,  who  married  Isolde  Allones?" 
She  knew  all  about  the  Kartwrights  from 
Town  Topics  and  if  Richard  Kurt  was 
a  friend  of  theirs  he  must  be  very  well 
connected. 

"Yes.  Ykni  see,  he  was  in  the  gover- 
nor's business.  I  don't  know  what  he  did 
there — not  much,  I  should  think.  They 
got  up  a  big  farming  company;  the 
governor  put  money  into  it.  The  com- 
pany owned  land  at  different  places  along 
the  line  between  Medicine  Hat  and  Cal- 
gary and  Billy  Kartwright  went  along  in 
a  caboose  organising  settlements."  He 
paused  and  considered  an  instant.  "It 


16         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

was  a  fine  scheme,  but  when  the  labourers 
found  out  that  the  Canadians  got  double 
as  much  as  they'd  contracted  for  they 
turned  it  down.  Billy  Kartwright  did  it 
all  on  a  grand  scale.  He  got  over  I 
don't  know  how  many  Polled  Angus  and 
Galloway  bulls,  Clydesdale  stallions  and 
Roscommon  rams,  and  they  all  went 
wrong — got  sick  or  something — and  when 
the  snow  came  they  half  starved;  they 
couldn't  feed  in  the  snow  like  the  native- 
bred  ones  could.  The  imported  ploughs 
were  no  good  for  the  soil;  nothing 
was  any  good.  And  Kartwright  made 
his  friends  managers  of  the  farms,  Public 
School  fellows  and  all  that,  who  didn't 
know  the  West  and  took  the  whole 
thing  as  a  sort  of  sporting  scheme.  One 
got  up  a  scratch  pack  of  hounds;  another 
started  laying  out  a  cricket  pitch — " 
His  pipe  had  gone  out;  he  began  relight- 
ing it.  "You  can  imagine  the  rest,"  he 
said,  between  the  puffs. 

"And  what  did  Sir  William  Kartwright 
do?" 

"He  went  off  home  with  his  wife  and 
left  Blackett  and  me  to  run  the  show." 
He  paused.  "Well,  perhaps  not  exactly 
that.  He  appointed  a  Scotch  land  bailiff 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE          IJ 

general  manager  but  the  labourers  collared 
him  and  stuck  him  in  a  cage.  He  looked 
like  a  baboon  anyhow."  He  lay  back  and 
laughed  heartily  at  the  recollection. 

"But  where  is  Sir  Leicester  Kartwright 
now?"  Elinor  was  not  interested  in  what 
happened  to  the  bailiff. 

"In  England,  trying  to  put  things 
right  with  his  shareholders.  I  think  the 
governor  expected  to  lose  his  money,  and 
only  took  shares  to  please  Kartwright  and 
get  me  a  job.  You  see,  the  governor's 
got  a  big  business.  Of  course  they  spend 
a  lot  of  money,  especially  my  mother;  he 
doesn't  seem  to  care  what  she  spends." 
He  knocked  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe 
on  his  heel  and  looked  up  at  her.  "I 
love  her  to  spend  a  lot  of  money  and 
have  everything.  She  ought  to;  there's 
no  one  like  her.  But  he  kicks  up  a  row 
about  my  spending  a  few  pounds  more 
than  my  allowance,  and  keeps  me  out 
here  when  I  want  to  go  to  the  Varsity." 

Elinor  was  puzzled  and  was  framing 
a  non-committal  remark,  when  he  got 
up  suddenly  and  added:  "I  say,  I'm 
cracked  to  go  on  saying  all  this.  That's 
the  worst  of  me.  I  can't  stop  talking 
when  I  get  started.  But  please  don't 


l8         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

think  I  always  do  it.  I  don't  know  why 
I  did  to-day,  except  that — "  He  paused, 
and  as  he  stood  looking  at  her  his  brown 
eyes  glistened. 

She  rose  gracefully  to  her  feet  and,  slip- 
ping her  hand  inside  his  arm,  pressed  it 
gently. 

"I  say,  you  are  kind."  He  kept  her 
hand  close  to  his  side  as  they  walked 
slowly  on  together. 

iii 

They  found  Mrs.  Colhouse  sitting  in 
the  porch,  talking  across  the  rose  fence 
to  Mrs.  Shuter,  who,  Elinor  considered, 
was  a  common  old  woman.  She  shot 
a  displeased  glance  at  her  mother,  turn- 
ing her  back  to  the  boundary,  on  the 
other  side  of  which  the  objectionable 
neighbour  was  sitting  under  a  laburnum- 
tree.  When  Elinor  presented  Richard 
Kurt  to  her  mother,  she  was  unpleasantly 
conscious  that  he  had  noticed  her  ungra- 
ciousness. The  deference  of  his  attitude 
towards  Mrs.  Colhouse  and  his  remark, 
obviously  intended  for  the  ignored  neigh- 
bour to  overhear:  "How  nice  for  you  to 
have  such  a  charming  garden  next  door. 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE          19 

Isn't  that  laburnum  lovely?"  increased  her 
irritation. 

Richard  placed  a  chair  for  her  with  its 
back  to  the  fence,  but  she  ignored  the 
attention  and  entered  the  house.  Just 
like  mammy  to  give  her  away  like  that 
with  her  po'  white  trash.  She  flew  upstairs, 
and  in  her  annoyance  threw  her  pretty 
leghorn  hat  on  the  bed  with  a  vehemence 
that  turned  it  over  on  its  bent  brim  in 
a  state  of  abject  disgrace.  After  she  had 
powdered  her  nose,  she  felt  sorry  for  it 
and,  giving  it  one  or  two  restoring  pokes, 
replaced  it  on  her  head.  When  she  had 
removed  her  shoes  and  put  on  high-heeled 
slippers,  dipped  her  hands  in  cool  water 
and  sprayed  herself  with  essence  of  lilac, 
especially  after  she  had  taken  a  good  look 
at  herself  in  the  mirror,  she  felt  better. 
All  the  Mrs.  Shuters  in  the  world  couldn't 
alter  the  fact  of  her  uncommon  beauty, 
and  if  he  thought  she  had  a  temper,  let 
him.  A  girl  with  a  face  and  figure  like 
hers  had  a  right  to  a  good  deal  more 
than  temper.  She  went  slowly  down- 
stairs, humming  and,  standing  well  inside 
the  door,  where  Mrs.  Shuter  couldn't  see 
her,  suggested  their  coming  into  the  house. 


20         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

Cold  tea  and  some  cakes  were  on  the  table, 
which  Mrs.  Colhouse  began  serving,  but 
Kurt  insisted  that  she  should  sit  down  and 
offered  her  the  first  glass  and  the  plate 
with  sliced  lemon.  Why  did  he  make 
such  a  point  of  handing  everything  to 
mammy  first?  She  made  an  effort  to 
repress  her  feelings,  but  she  could  not 
force  herself  to  join  in  the  conversation, 
and  though  he  looked  at  her  shyly  now 
and  then  while  he  talked,  she  returned 
monosyllables  and  he  soon  got  up  and 
said  he  must  be  going. 

"You  have  been  so  kind.  I  will  come 
and  say  good-bye  before  I  go." 

For  an  instant  her  spirits  sank,  but  she 
collected  herself  and  asked:  "There's  a 
dance  at  the  hotel  this  evening,  isn't 
there?" 

"A  dance?  I  didn't  know.  I  say,  do 
come."  He  advanced  into  the  little  sit- 
ting-room again.  "And  you  too,  Mrs. 
Colhouse,  won't  you?" 

"Mr.  Kurt,  I  haven't  been  to  a  dance 
for  twenty  years,  but  I  daresay  Nell  will 

go." 

"If  there  is  one,  may  I  come  and  fetch 
you?"  He  looked  anxiously  at  Elinor. 

"If  you  like.    But  I  must  know  at  once." 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE          21 

With  a  hurried  good-bye  he  ran  up  the 
garden  path. 

"A  nice  fool  you  made  me  look." 

"Why  how,  Nell?" 

"I've  told  you  to  keep  away  from  Mrs. 
Shuter." 

"But,  my  dear,  I  can't  be  rude  to  our 
neighbour,  and  you  wearing  her  roses 
too." 

"I'll  pay  for  them,  come  to  that.  I 
don't  want  her  around  when  I've  got  com- 
pany. She'll  get  cackling  about  all  sorts 
of  things.  I've  told  you  that  ever  so 
often." 

"But  sure-ly  that  English  boy  don't 
matter.  He's  too  young  to  count,  isn't 
he?" 

Elinor  felt  her  temper  rising  but  she 
restrained  herself.  "Now,  mammy,  you 
listen  to  me.  I  know  Richard  Kurt's 
young,  but  he's  the  best  chance  I've  ever 
had  and  probably  shall  ever  have.  His 
parents  live  in  London,  and  they've  got 
a  big  position  there.  You  know  I've 
always  wanted  to  marry  an  Englishman. 
His  father's  rich — how  rich  I  don't  know. 
He  says  he's  got  no  money  himself,  but 
that  don't  matter,  he  will  have.  And  I 


22          ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

mean  to  marry  him  if  I  can  and  chance 
it.  That's  all  there  is  about  it." 

Mrs.  Colhouse  threw  herself  back  in  her 
chair  and  gazed  at  her  daughter  with  as- 
tonished eyes.  "Marry  him,  that  baby, 
and  you  only  saw  him  to-day  for  the  first 
time.  Lord  'a'  mercy.  You'd  be  taking  a 
kid  to  raise." 

Elinor  made  an  impatient  sound  with 
her  tongue  against  the  back  of  her  teeth. 
"See  here,  mammy,  you  know  I've  got 
sense  and  you  know  the  sort  of  life  we 
lead.  Now  I'm  determined  to  get  out  of 
it  myself  and  get  you  out  too." 

"How  did  you  get  to  know  him?"  Mrs. 
Colhouse  asked. 

"Frank  Waters  gave  him  a  letter  to 
me." 

Mrs.   Colhouse  looked  up  inquiringly. 

"You  remember  the  time  Sissie  Warren 
went  up  to  Cliftonburg  to  that  great  ball 
where  there  was  a  baron  and  came  back 
with  her  head  buzzing  full  of  it.  That 
ball  was  given  by  Mr.  Theophilus  Kurt, 
this  boy's  uncle,  and  he's  the  president  of 
the  C.  W.  &  M.  He's  in  London  now." 

Mrs.  Colhouse  stared  at  Elinor  through 
her  spectacles  with  a  startled  expression. 
"And  what  would  he  say  to  it  all?  He'd 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE         23 

never  want  that  boy  to  get  engaged  while 
he's  away." 

Elinor   went  to   the   mirror   over   the 

mantel  and  pulled  a  long  pin  out  of  her 

hat.     "I   don't  intend  to  be  engaged  to 

him   when  his   uncle   comes   back."     She 

calmly  arranged  a  curl  beside  her  temple. 

"Then  what  do  you  mean  to  do?" 

Elinor  turned  round  and  tiptoed  across 

the  room  to  her  mother's  chair  with  her 

finger  on  her  lips.      "I  mean  to  be  married 

to  him,"  she  whispered. 

iv 

There  was  a  dance  at  the  hotel,  and 
by  eight  o'clock  the  combined  intensive 
labours  of  Elinor  and  her  mother  had 
wrought  so  great  a  change  in  what  she 
called  her  "old  blue  rag"  that  only  an 
expert  could  have  identified  it  as  the  one 
she  wore  with  such  success  at  the  Pome- 
granate Club  Ball  two  years  before.  It 
was  of  blue  velvet,  with  black  guipure 
and  bead  ornaments.  The  sleeves  were 
like  elongated  balloons.  Elinor,  born 
strategist  of  the  wardrobe  that  she  was, 
laid  her  plans  against  emergency  well  in 
advance.  At  odd  moments  for  some  time 
past  she  had  bespangled  two  square  yards 


24         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

or  so  of  the  turquoise  blue  velvet  with 
faceted  bits  of  jet,  replacing  therewith 
the  more  meagre  and  less  salient  sleeves 
of  an  earlier  period.  There  were  other 
modifications  of  more  or  less  significance, 
but  it  was  the  final  assembling  of  the 
parts  that  had  called  for  her  extreme 
ingenuity  under  pressure  of  time.  The 
effort  made  so  heavy  a  demand  upon  her 
nerves  that  by  the  time  the  work  of  art 
had  reached  safety  point  her  appetite 
had  been  completely  cut  and  her  only 
preparation  for  the  evening's  contin- 
gencies was  a  glass  of  cold  tea.  Mrs. 
Colhouse  had  stood  nobly  in  the  breach, 
meeting  difficulties  as  they  arose,  and  sup- 
plying reinforcements  of  needles,  threads, 
hooks,  eyes,  beads,  tucks  and  so  forth 
whenever  requisitioned.  It  was  hardly 
to  be  expected  that  such  an  enterprise 
could  be  brought  to  a  successful  con- 
clusion without  one  or  two  small  reverses. 
One,  came  when,  daintily  underclothed, 
perfumed  and  curled,  Elinor  raised  her 
arms  for  her  dress  to  be  slipped  over  her 
head.  A  hook  caught  a  strand  of  hair; 
it  might  have  been — ought  to  have  been 
— avoided.  It  was  true  that  Mrs.  Col- 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE          25 

house  was  not  so  young  as  she  had  been, 
that  she  had  had  no  supper  and  had  taken 
off  her  spectacles  just  before  to  rub  her 
eyes,  but  it  was  maddening  for  Elinor,  of 
whom  that  coiffure  had  demanded  at 
least  twenty  minutes  of  precious  time. 
She  stamped  with  helpless  rage  as  her 
mother,  making  matters  worse  in  her  mis- 
guided attempts  to  disentangle  the  tress, 
brought  the  whole  delicate  fabric  crum- 
bling down  in  ruin. 

"Oh,  mammy,  you  old  fool,  you've 
done  for  my  hair;  and  oh,  oh,  you're 
hurting — you're  hurting.  Oh,  dear!  oh, 
dear!"  and  she  broke  into  sobs.  It  was 
an  awful  moment,  but  Elinor  surmounted 
it.  Brushing  her  mother  aside,  restrain- 
ing her  tears  and  concentrating  her  will, 
she  defeated  the  hook,  extricated  her  head 
and  drew  the  dress  down,  standing  a  little 
dishevelled  and  breathing  hard,  but  ready, 
if  necessary,  for  another  punishing  round. 
It  came.  This  time  it  really  was  a  case 
of  criminal  negligence.  Mammy  had  ac- 
tually sewn  two  hooks  where  eyes  ought  to 
have  been,  and  vice  versa.  Elinor  stood 
motionless,  too  overcome  for  utterance. 
The  little  brass  clock  derisively  indicated 


26         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

twenty  minutes  to  nine.  "Did  ever  any- 
one— .?  Was  there  ever  such  a  born  fool, 
such  a  doggorned  idiot ?" 

A  sound  struck  on  her  ear  as  though 
it  were  in  the  room;  she  turned  sharply 
round.  Through  the  window,  open  to  the 
vault  of  heaven  and  to  the  path  leading 
to  the  hotel,  she  saw  Richard  Kurt,  and  at 
that  instant  the  sound  stopped.  He  had 
been  whistling.  Now,  silent  and  without 
looking  up,  he  disappeared  from  her  view 
as  he  made  his  way  below  her  to  the  front 
of  the  house. 

"And  to  think,  besides  everything  else, 
you  left  that  window  open !" 

She  flung  the  words  at  her  mother;  it 
was  past  bearing. 

To  Mrs.  Colhouse's  half-frightened 
"Do  you  think  he  saw  you?"  she  did  not 
vouchsafe  an  answer. 

He  apologised  for  being  unable  to  take 
her  to  the  hotel  in  a  cab;  none  were  avail- 
able. At  this  she  laughed.  "Hacks  in 
Manitou!  Now  if  you'd  asked  for  a 
buggy—" 

"A  buggy!  Of  course.  I'd  not 
thought  of  that," 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE         27 

She  was  pinning  a  chiffon  scarf  round 
her  hair. 

"I'm  glad  you  didn't.  It  would  have 
blown  me  about  more  and  it's  only  a  few 
steps.  Would  you  take  these?"  Her 
manner  was  graciousness  itself  as  she 
handed  him  her  dancing  slippers,  daintily 
tied  up  with  blue  ribbon.  He  turned  them 
over,  fingering  them.  "I  say,  you  have 
got  small  feet." 

The  wind  blew  pretty  stiffly  in  their 
faces  as  they  mounted  the  slight  ascent. 
It  went  clean  through  her  thin  ball  dress, 
over  which  she  had  thrown  a  light  cash- 
mere shawl,  an  old  possession  of  her 
mother's.  On  almost  any  other  occasion 
the  discomfort  of  the  walk,  the  feeling  of 
.disarrangement,  would  have  put  her  on 
bad  terms  with  herself,  but  this  evening 
she  battled  on  cheerfully  and  when  he 
apologised  for  the  breeze  she  said  she  en- 
joyed it. 

They  had  passed  through  the  crowded 
lobby  together  and  stood  at  the  entrance 
of  the  ballroom.  She  was  enjoying  the 
sensation  their  entrance  had  created.  She 
knew  she  was  the  loveliest  amongst  the 
many  pretty  girls  as  she  was  the  best 


28          ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

dressed.  She  knew  too  that  the  arrival 
on  the  scene  of  Kurt  was  an  event,  not 
only  because  his  clothes  were  noticeably 
well  cut  and  his  whole  appearance  elegant, 
nor  was  it  because  his  hair  was  parted 
at  the  extreme  left  side  of  his  head  and 
brushed  straight  back  in  a  fashion  no  man 
there  would  have  ventured,  even  had  he 
thought  of  it.  What  it  was  she  did  not 
exactly  know,  but  perhaps  it  was  his  gen- 
eral Englishness  that  made  him  superior 
to  the  other  men.  And  what  pleased  her 
still  more  was  that  the  other  men  knew 
it  and  disliked  him  for  it  and  that  the  girls 
knew  it  also  and  envied  her.  When  he  re- 
marked: "I'm  afraid  we'll  have  to  sit  it 
out;  I  can't  dance  like  that,"  she  muttered, 
half  absently:  "Like  what?"  In  her 
pleased  absorption  she  had  not  grasped 
the  meaning  of  his  words  and  it  was  only 
when  he  added:  "We  don't  reverse  in  Eng- 
land, you  know,"  that  her  attention  was 
roused.  She  knew  that  everything  he  did 
and  said  would  be  critically  noticed,  that 
their  manner  together  was  under  scrutiny, 
but  she  did  not  waver.  "We'll  dance  as 
you  dance  in  England." 

He  stood  with  his  arm  extended,  and 
she,  taking  two  gliding  steps,  swung  him 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE         29 

into  the  midst  of  the  dancers.  He  had 
an  ear  for  time  but  no  idea  of  dancing. 

"Just  swing  with  me,"  she  whispered. 
"Let  yourself  go;  I'll  steer." 

He  did  as  she  told  him.  It  was  not  a 
perfect  success  but  it  was  near  enough. 
They  circled  up  and  down.  With  every 
turn  he  improved;  before  the  waltz  was 
finished  he  had  got  into  the  step. 

"That'll  do  for  now.  Take  me  into 
the  lobby." 

"I  say,  you  are  a  splendid  dancer.  I 
never  could  have  got  through  without 
you."  He  looked  at  her,  admiration  in 
his  eyes. 

"I  suppose  I  do  dance  well."  Her  tone 
was  careless.  "I  like  the  way  you  hold 
me.  Mind  you  always  hold  me  like  that. 
I  hate  that  close  way." 

His  way  of  holding  was  very  effective; 
if  she  could  improve  his  step  they  would 
look  perfect  together. 

"I  know  what  you  mean,  but  they  do 
dance  well,  don't  they?  In  England  men 
dance  awfully  badly.  Most  of  them  don't 
dance  at  all,  and  reversing's  barred.  At 
the  hunt  balls  they  stop  you;  it's  con- 
sidered caddish  to  reverse,  but  that's  be- 
cause they  go  round  and  round  like  teeto- 


30         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

turns.  They  wouldn't  bar  it  if  they 
danced  like  you  do  here." 

They  danced  together  the  whole  eve- 
ning. He  got  absorbed  in  the  steps  and 
improved  each  time.  A  few  men  came  up 
and  asked  her  for  dances,  but  she  declined 
coldly.  Not  a  woman  came  near  her,  but 
he  did  not  notice  nor  did  he  look  at  any- 
one. 

He  talked  of  nothing  but  dancing  on 
their  way  back,  and  when  they  reached  the 
cottage  gate  he  hadn't  finished  what  he 
wanted  to  say.  She  went  in  and  turned 
up  the  lamp  in  the  little  hall  while  he  stood 
watching  her,  uncertain  whether  to  go  at 
once  or  linger. 

"Good-night."  She  held  out  her  hand 
and  he  took  it  with  reluctance.  "I  hate 
leaving  you.  May  I  come  and  see  you 
to-morrow?" 

"It's  two  o'clock.  To-morrow  will  be 
Wednesday,  and  you  said  you  were  going 
away." 

"But  I  shan't.     I  shan't  go  until — " 

She  waited  for  him  to  finish  the  sen- 
tence, smiling  half-teasingly. 

"You  know  what  I  mean,"  he  faltered. 

"Indeed  I  don't." 

Taking  refuge  in  action,  he  threw  his 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE          31 

cape  across  his  shoulders  and  lighted  a 
cigarette,  then  stood  looking  at  her  as 
though  he  wanted  to  say  something  but 
couldn't  find  the  words.  She  was  leaning 
with  her  back  against  the  wooden  mantel- 
piece ;  the  only  light  came  from  the  flicker- 
ing lamp  in  the  hall,  which,  she  noticed, 
smelt  horribly.  He  turned  abruptly  and 
went  to  the  open  door,  stopped  again, 
came  back  into  the  room. 

"When  may  I  come — after  lunch?" 

"You  can  come  to  lunch  if  you'll  put  up 
with  it." 

"How  sweet  of  you.  I  should  love  to. 
Good-night." 

She  locked  the  front  door  and  went 
slowly  upstairs.  She  was  tired,  but  she 
was  not  at  all  sleepy.  What  a  boy  he  was 
— how  different  from  any  she  had  known ! 
Was  it  wise  to  have  asked  him  to  a  meal? 
When  he  saw  how  they  lived,  he  might 
think  less  of  her.  Would  he  believe  that 
though  poor  old  mammy  was  very  south- 
ern and  provincial  she  was  a  lady?  These 
were  risks,  but  risks  that  had  to  be  run; 
there  was  no  time  to  lose.  She  lit  the 
candles  on  her  dressing-table,  peering  at 
herself  in  the  glass,  took  up  a  hand  mirror 
and  had  a  good  look  at  each  side  of  her 


32         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

head  and  the  back  as  well.  She  pulled  her 
arms  out  of  the  wide  sleeves  and  took 
another  long  look  at  herself.  She  stepped 
out  of  her  dress  and  petticoat  and  stood  an 
instant  in  her  thin  silk  vest.  The  looking- 
glass  upon  the  chest  of  drawers  was  too 
high  to  reflect  her  below  the  waist.  She 
looked  down  intently  at  her  legs,  pulling 
the  thin  black  silk  stockings  taut;  she  knew 
they  were  as  nearly  perfect  in  shape  as 
legs  could  be.  Then  she  slipped  on  her 
nightgown  and  blew  out  the  candles. 


Mrs.  Colhouse  was  a  good  cook,  especi- 
ally under  Elinor's  superintendence.  The 
moment  they  heard  the  sound  of  Richard's 
footsteps  on  the  path,  the  lake  whitefish 
was  put  on  the  grill,  the  little  round  bis- 
cuits lay  ready  to  place  in  the  oven.  The 
half-breed  help  looked  on;  she  was  never 
allowed  to  touch  the  food.  Elinor  had 
laid  the  table,  had  prepared  the  cucumber 
and  tomato  salad,  which  looked  deliciously 
tempting  in  a  dish  shaped  like  a  large 
green  leaf.  A  glass  vase  full  of  Mrs. 
Shuter's  choicest  rosebuds  decorated  the 
table,  upon  which  lay  a  wooden  bowl  of 
baked  potatoes,  small  glass  saucers  with 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE         33 

delicately  rolled  pats  of  yellow  butter 
snuggling  crisply  between  their  protecting 
lumps  of  ice,  a  little  silver  tray  of  salted 
almonds  and  one  of  chocolates.  In  front 
of  each  place  was  a  half  cantelupe,  full  of 
cracked  ice. 

A  curtain  made  of  light  cane  separated 
the  dining-room  from  the  sitting-room  into 
which  Kurt  was  shown  clumsily  by  the 
help.  He  wore  white  flannel  trousers 
and  a  tie  more  vivid  in  colour  mixture 
than  Elinor  had  ever  seen.  The  hideous 
combination  of  it  fascinated  her.  She  was 
very  sensitive  to  colour,  and  she  could  not 
take  her  eyes  off  it  as,  parting  the  curtain, 
she  came  towards  him.  He  must  have 
noticed  her  stare,  for  directly  after  shak- 
ing hands  with  her  he  remarked:  "I'm 
afraid  you  don't  like  my  tie.  It's  only  a 
sort;  of  imitation  of  the  Zingari,  you 
know." 

She  didn't  ask  what  Zingari  were,  but 
told  him  lunch  was  ready  and  took  him 
into  the  other  room.  She  sat  down  at 
once,  but  he  stood  beside  her,  waiting. 

"What  about  Mrs  Colhouse?" 

"Mamma  will  come  in  presently.  She 
insists  on  doing  the  cooking.  We  can't 
get  cooks  here  and  our  old  coloured  cook's 


34         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

at  Waterville."  She  watched  his  face, 
wondering  how  this  humiliating  avowal 
would  affect  him. 

"I'm  so  sorry  I'm  giving  her  extra 
trouble.  I  wish  I'd  known.  Can't  I  do 
something?  I'm  rather  good  at  cooking. 
I  began  when  I  was  a  fag  and  polished 
it  up  in  Canada." 

Wondering  what  a  fag  was,  Elinor 
made  him  sit  down,  assuring  him  that  her 
mother  would  be  upset  if  he  took  any 
notice.  He  praised  everything;  it  all 
looked  so  appetising.  And  when  she  told 
him  that  she  had  had  a  hand  in  it,  he  ex- 
pressed his  admiration  enthusiastically. 

After  the  hired  girl  had  brought  the 
fish,  Mrs.  Colhouse  came  in.  Her  face 
was  flushed,  and  she  glanced  at  Elinor 
appehensively  as  Kurt  rose  and  warmly 
greeted  her,  holding  the  chair  for  her  and 
passing  the  sugar  for  her  melon.  But 
she  wouldn't  take  any  and  it  was  only 
when  Elinor  pronounced  the  whitefish  to 
be  "lovely"  that  a  look  of  relief  came  into 
her  face.  Things  then  went  easier,  and 
when  Elinor,  leaving  the  table  and  going 
out  to  the  ice-chest,  returned  with  a  large 
glass  bowl  of  sliced  peaches  and  ice-cream, 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE         35 

which  she  informed  him  she  had  herself 
prepared,  she  read  in  his  face  gratifying 
admiration  of  her  taste  and  skill.  She 
began  to  think  that  his  admittance  to  their 
modestly  conducted  household,  far  from 
shocking  him,  had  established  an  ad- 
ditional claim  on  his  consideration. 
There  was  a  perceptible  deepening  of  his 
general  interest,  a  growing  sympathy  in 
his  manner  towards  both  her  mother  and 
herself.  He  seemed  to  her  to  be  appreci- 
ating them  the  more  for  their  making  him 
so  much  at  home.  This  was  not  in  line 
with  her  experience;  any  other  man  she 
could  think  of,  though  delighted  to  enjoy 
her  society  under  such  intimate  conditions, 
would  have  become  familiar  on  the 
strength  of  them.  When  Mrs.  Colhouse 
helped  the  hired  girl  to  clear  the  plates, 
he  begged  her  to  allow  him  to  do  his  share. 
"You  don't  know  how  much  pleasure  it 
would  give  me.  I  ought  to  wait  on  you." 
Her  mother's  answer  "You'll  get  used  to 
being  waited  on,  time  you've  finished,"  was 
not  at  all  the  sort  of  answer  she  ought  to 
have  made  and  caused  Elinor  to  take  him 
into  the  other  room  and  tell  him  that 
"Mamma  would  so  much  rather  do  it." 


36         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

"I  do  like  your  mother,"  he  said, 
"she's  so  kind;  but  she  looks  rather  sad, 
doesn't  she?" 

Elinor  was  sitting  in  the  low  arm-chair, 
fanning  herself;  it  was  very  hot.  "I'm 
afraid  she  has  reason  for  being  sad."  She 
sighed  and  put  her  fan  before  her  eyes. 
This  was  a  moment  to  take  advantage 
of.  "She's  not  happy  with  my  father  and 
we've  lost  all  our  money." 

He  sat  down  close  to  her  at  the  end  of 
the  sofa.  "I'm  so  sorry." 

"We  used  to  live  in  Baltimore.  Father 
is  a  doctor  and  was  quite  well  off  then. 
When  he  lost  his  money,  we  went  to 
Waterville;  and  things  have  got  worse  and 
worse.  And  I'm  an  expense  to  him, 
but  he  adores  me;  he'd  give  me  every- 
thing if  he  could.  When  I  was  a  child, 
I  was  brought  up  like  a  little  prin- 
cess. Now  he's  old  and  he's  taken  to 
speculating  with  the  little  that  is  left." 
She  folded  her  fan  and  turned  her  face 
away. 

"I'm  so  sorry."  He  laid  his  hand 
lightly  upon  hers  as  it  lay  in  her  lap. 
"I'm  so  sorry,"  he  repeated. 

"Oh,  well,  it  can't  be  helped."  She 
made  a  movement  as  though  she  were 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE         37 

shaking  off  a  spectre.  "I'm  sure  I  don't 
know  why  I  should  worry  you  with  all 
that." 

"Worry  me !  To  think  of  my  having 
talked  to  you  about  my  affairs  while  all 
the  time  you  were  worried  to  death.  To 
think  of  your  being  so  good  to  me,  giving 
me  that  delicious  lunch  and  all  that,  when 

you're — you're "  He  got  up  and 

walked  to  the  window,  then  came  back. 
"If  only  I  had  some  money.  That's  what 
makes  me  so  angry — the  governor's  got 
plenty." 

Elinor  laughed.  "I  don't  see  the  con- 
nection." 

"Why  not?  What's  the  good  of 
money  if  one  can't  help  one's  friends?" 

"But  you  hardly  know  us." 

"I  feel  as  if  I'd  known  you  for  years. 
You  know  what  I  mean.  Your  mother 
seems  like  a  dear  old  aunt."  He  had 
barely  said  the  words  when  Mrs.  Colhouse 
appeared,  followed  by  the  help,  carrying 
a  tray  of  steaming  hot,  delicious-smelling 
coffee. 

"I  say,  what  a  treat.  I  know  you've 
been  making  that.  How  naughty  of  you. 
At  home  my  eldest  sister  always  does  it, 
except  when  there  are  people." 


38         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

"How  many  sisters  have  you,  Mr. 
Kurt?"  Mrs.  Colhouse  asked. 

"Two.  I  wish  you  knew  them  and  my 
mother."  He  paused  and  looked  at 
Elinor.  "Perhaps  you  will  some  day." 

It  was  plain  that  he  wanted  them  to 
know  all  about  himself,  and  he  told  them 
a  good  deal  that  afternoon.  Elinor  knew 
her  mother  was  puzzled  by  many  of  his 
expressions  and  allusions;  so  was  she,  for 
that  matter,  but  they  needn't  expose  their 
ignorance.  They  were  all  things  that 
could  be  learnt  without  giving  oneself 
away  if  one  had  sense. 


CHAPTER  II 


DURING  the  next  few  days,  Elinor  had 
misgivings.  It  was  surprising  what  a  long 
period  twenty-four  hours  could  be  when 
one  was  anxiously  hoping  and  waiting  for 
a  particular  thing  to  happen.  Not  that 
the  time  passed  slowly;  on  the  contrary, 
she  grudged  every  hour  which  went  by 
without  bringing  her  nearer  to  her  goal 
arid  asked  herself  whether  she  had  made 
the  best  use  of  it,  for  it  seemed  to  her  that 
events  were  not  taking  the  course  they 
ought  to  take.  Was  there  anything  she 
had  done  or  left  undone  which  might 
have  brought  about  a  more  favourable, 
a  more  pregnant  and  especially  a  more 
emotional  situation?  For,  up  till  now, 
in  spite  of  outward  appearances  which 
might  impress  onlookers  at  the  hotel 
and  cottage  residents,  in  spite  of  an 
entirely  sympathetic  manner  towards 
her,  Richard  Kurt  -had  made  no  decla- 
ration. And  she  got  no  support  from 
her  mother,  who  seemed  to  be  un- 

39 


40         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

naturally  and  unreasonably  protecting 
him  at  her  daughter's  expense.  It  was 
as  though  her  maternal  instinct  had  been 
aroused  by  his  artlessness  and  by  what  she 
imagined  to  be  his  defencelessness.  He 
had  spent  each  day  with  them;  this  was 
the  third  since  the  dance,  and  Elinor  was 
to  take  supper  with  him  at  the  hotel, 
whither  he  had  now  gone  to  dress. 
There  had  been  a  thunderstorm,  which 
had  kept  them  in  all  the  afternoon.  He 
was  apparently  quite  as  pleased  when  her 
mother  was  present  as  when  she  and  he 
were  alone  together.  She  went  so  far  as 
to  express  ironical  wonder  that  her  mother 
didn't  come  and  chaperone  her  at  supper. 

"Yes,"  Mrs.  Colhouse  tartly  replied, 
"I  guess  he  needs  a  mother  more  than  he 
does  a  wife."  At  which  Elinor  went  up 
to  dress,  determining,  whatever  happened, 
she  would  manage  without  her  mother's 
assistance. 

He  arrived  punctually  at  eight  as  ar- 
ranged, but  when  she  came  into  the  room 
he  got  up,  hardly  looking  at  her,  and 
continued  begging  her  mother  to  come 
with  them.  "I  can't  see  why  you  don't 
come.  Your  dress?  You  always  look 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE          41 

nice.  And  what  on  earth  do  clothes  mat- 
ter at  that  rotten  hotel?" 

This  was  not  agreeable  for  Elinor,  who 
had  put  on  a  specially  smart  New-York- 
inspired  dinner-dress. 

On  the  way  up  he  told  her  he  didn't 
quite  like  taking  her  alone.  Was  it  really 
all  right?  Wouldn't  people  talk? 

"If  you're  afraid  to  be  seen  with  me 
you'd  better  say  so  and  not  take  me." 
She  stood  still  as  she  uttered  the  words. 
She  was  losing  patience  with  him. 

"I  say!  You  know  I  don't  mean  that. 
It's  entirely  for  your  sake;  please  don't 
be  offended."  His  manner  was  appeal- 
ing and  she  relented,  but  she  was  not 
really  appeased.  It  was  galling  that,  un- 
like everyone  else,  he  was  unimpressed 
by  her  fashionable  appearance.  He 
seemed  to  take  it  for  granted,  for  he  only 
glanced  at  her  now  and  then  when  he 
talked.  On  this  occasion  she  knew  she 
was  at  her  best;  everyone  in  the  dining- 
room  stared  at  them  as  they  went  to  their 
table.  He  had  stupidly  chosen  one  in  a 
corner,  where  she  could  least  be  seen. 
She  couldn't  resist  commenting  upon  this 
with  some  asperity,  and  his  "Less  con- 


42          ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

spicuous.  I  thought  you  would  prefer 
it"  would  have  increased  her  irritation 
had  not  an  imposing-looking  man  and  a 
lady  wearing  a  diamond  necklace  and 
diamond  rings  taken  their  seats  at  the 
next  table.  Kurt  had  his  back  to  them, 
which  was  as  well,  for  the  man  stared  at 
her  with  marked  admiration — in  fact,  kept 
his  eyes  on  her  nearly  the  whole  time. 
He  must  be  someone  of  importance,  for 
towards  the  end  of  supper  Hugh  M'Alpin 
came  over  to  their  neighbours'  table  and 
shook  hands  with  them,  asking  when  they 
arrived.  M'Alpin  was  the  most  im- 
portant man  in  Manitou,  and  only  went 
out  of  his  way  for  people  who  were  worth 
while. 

"We  came  up  in  my  private  cyar  from 
Detroit.  I'm  on  my  annual  grand  tour  of 
the  system.  There's  a  conference  of  the 
Inter-state  Commission  at  Milwaukee  and 
I'm  goin'  to  get  things  straightened  out." 
He  addressed  himself  to  M'Alpin  but  his 
eyes  were  directed  at  Elinor.  He  now  be- 
gan conversing  audibly  with  the  lady  be- 
side him,  mentioning  their  new  "brown- 
stone  front"  at  Cleveland  and  their  cot- 
tage at  Narragansett.  As  he  rose  from 
the  table  Kurt  kept  his  back  to  their  neigh- 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE         43 

hours  while  he  waited  for  Elinor  to  pass 
out. 

They  sat  down  in  the  lobby  where  hotel 
guests  gathered  after  meals. 

"You  didn't  see  that  man  at  the  next 
table,  did  you?"  she  could  not  resist 
asking. 

"I  heard  him;   that  was   enough." 

The  subject  of  her  question  came  out  of 
the  dining-room  and  she  saw  that  he  was 
making  a  bee-line  towards  them.  To  her 
surprise,  he  held  out  his  hand  to  Kurt, 
who  rose  slowly  and  apparently  touched 
it  with  the  tips  of  his  fingers  as  the  other 
asked  him,  with  his  eyes  on  her:  "How 
air  yew,  young  feller?  Where's  yer 
uncle?" 

"In  London." 

"Guess  he'll  sell  the  C.  W.  &  M.  Your 
folk  can't  make  that  system  pay  under  the 
Inter-state  regilations.  Have  a  cigyar?" 

Kurt  declined  politely,  but  the  other 
showed  no  intention  of  moving  and  still 
kept  his  eyes  on  her.  "I  gave  yer  uncle 
the  combination  but  he  warn't  takin'  any. 
He's  too  high-flown,  he  is,  always  talking 
about  his  shareholders.  You've  gat  to 
learn  shareholders  what  business  is — 
that's  what  I  tell  him."  After  laying 


44         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

down  the  law  pretty  thoroughly  for  some 
minutes  as  to  what  Mr.  Theophilus  Kurt's 
railroad  policy  ought  and  ought  not  to 
be,  during  which  time  Richard  Kurt  stood 
silent,  he  suddenly  turned  to  Elinor  and 
asked  her  pointedly  whether  she  was  stay- 
ing at  the  hotel  and  how  long  for.  Kurt 
interrupted:  "Miss  Colhouse  is  with  her 
mother  at  their  cottage,  Mr.  Galton." 
His  tone  was  icy  but  the  other,  with  com- 
plete imperturbability,  continued:  "Is 
that  so?  I  know  a  Dr.  Colhouse — tried 
to  float  a  mining  proposition  at  Chicawgo 
some  time  back."  He  looked  knowingly 
at  her,  and  there  stood  Kurt,  with  his 
eyes  in  front  of  him,  not  saying  a  word. 
The  embarrassing  moment  was  relieved 
by  the  appearance  of  the  lady  with  the 
diamonds,  to  whom  Mr.  Galton  made  a 
sign.  As  she  came  near  them,  he  intro- 
duced her  as  his  wife.  Kurt  offered  his 
seat,  bowed  and  moved  away,  much  to 
Elinor's  relief. 

"Where  did  yer  run  into  young  Kurt? 
Seems  to  be  badly  stuck  on  himself." 
Mr.  Galton  blew  a,  cloud  of  cigar  smoke 
into  her  face  as  he  asked  the  question. 

Elinor  disliked  cigar  smoke,  but  she 
smiled  ingratiatingly.  She  must  manage 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE         45 

him  so  that  he  didn't  say  anything  to  the 
detriment  of  her  father  in  front  of  Kurt. 

"He's  English,  so  English,  you  know." 
She  mimicked  the  tag  of  the  day  playfully. 

"That  is  so,  and  he's  full  of  money. 
Theophilus  Kurt's  in  the  Alger  firm  and  I 
guess  this  young  dude's  got  a  big  interest 
in  their  deals.  Anyway  the  baron  thinks 
a  lot  of  his  president;  lets  him  run  the 
show  his  own  way." 

Elinor  was  meditating  this  information 
when  Mrs.  Galton,  whose  eyes  had  been 
fixed  on  her  while  her  husband  spoke,  re- 
marked: "Perhaps  Miss  Colhouse  knows 
more  about  the  Kurts  than  yew  do, 
James.  Do  yew  know  Mrs.  Kurt,  Miss 
Colhouse?" 

"No,  Mrs.  Galton.  I  only  met  Mr. 
Richard  Kurt  here  this  summer  after  his 
aunt  had  gone  to  England." 

The  lady  glanced  meaningly  at  her 
husband  and  Elinor,  disposed  at  this  criti- 
cal stage  to  be  apprehensive,  wondered 
what  the  glance  implied.  The  diamonds 
might  provide  an  opportunity  to  pro- 
pitiate. 

"What  lovely  jewels  you  have,  Mrs. 
Galton." 

The  older  woman  lovingly  fingered  the 


46         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

ornament  on  her  breast  and,  looking  at 
Elinor's  array  of  poor  little  pins  affixed  as 
was  the  fashion  to  her  bodice,  answered: 

"They're  all  presents  from  Mr.  Galton, 
Miss  Colhouse." 

Was  that  bedizened  hag  insinuating 
something? 

"I  took  that  for  granted,  Mrs.  Galton," 
she  said,  smiling  at  the  president  with  de- 
liberate intent  to  charm.  Even  at  the 
sacrifice  of  her  own  interests  she  could  not 
resist  the  joy  of  an  immediate  score.  On 
this  occasion  she  succeeded  so  well  that 
the  glittering  lady  rose,  tossing  her  head, 
and  walked  off. 

Mr.  Galton  manifested  exuberant  de- 
light. "You  got  the  old  woman  there; 
you're  a  pert  chick.  Say" — he  put  his 
mouth  very  close  to  Elinor's  ear — "what 
about  that  English  dudq?"  He  drew 
back  somewhat  and  waited  for  her  answer. 

"I  don't  think  I  quite  understand." 
She  meant  her  reply  to  show  that  she  was 
taking  his  question  in  good  part  but  she 
put  an  extra  refinement  into  her  tone. 

"Anyone  can  see  he's  stuck  on  you.  If 
I  put  in  a  word  or  two,  will  yew  keep  a 
little  corner  of  your  heart  for  me?" 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE          47 

"Why,  what  would  you  do  with  it,  Mr. 
Galton?" 

His  small  blue  eyes  seemed  to  look  her 
through.  "I  guess  your  old  dad  would  be 
mighty  pleased.  He's  pretty  down  on  his 
luck,  ain't  he?" 

She  must  appeal  to  his  pity.  "It's  very 
hard  on  my  mother  and  me,  Mr.  Galton. 
Sometimes  I  wonder  what  will  happen  to 
us."  She  spoke  very  sadly.  "Of  course, 
Mr.  Kurt  doesn't  know  all  this." 

"Why  should  he  ?  You  jest  marry  him 
and  you'll  be  O.  K.  And  if  I  ken  do  any- 
thing any  time,  why,  let  me  know."  He 
pulled  a  big  pocket-book  stuffed  with  hun- 
dred-dollar bills  out  of  his  pocket  and  ex- 
tracted a  square  card  upon  which  were 
engraved  in  large  letters: 

JAMES  W.  GALTON, 
President 

CCC.  &  O.  &  Associated  Railroads, 

Cleveland. 

"Our  home's  on  Euclid  but  you  write 
to  the  office  and  mark  it  'Private.'  You 
never  ken  tell " 

In  the  distance  Richard  Kurt  was  hover- 
ing uncertainly.  The  railroad  president 


48         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

stalked  across  the  hall  and  placed  his  hand 
on  the  young  Englishman's  shoulders, 
talking  as  he  had  done  to  her,  close  to  his 
ear. 

Some  minutes  later,  Kurt,  blowing 
through  his  lips  as  though  he  wanted  to 
blow  away  a  disagreeable  memory,  threw 
himself  into  the  chair  beside  her.  "What 
a  man !  He  told  me  your  father  was  a 
great  friend  of  his."  His  tone  implied 
that  he  couldn't  believe  it. 

She  was  rather  puzzled  as  to  what  to 
say. 

"My  father,  being  a  doctor,  knows  all 
sorts  of  people.  He  can't  always  pick  and 
choose  his  acquaintances  and  Mr.  Galton's 
influential.  He  was  very  nice  to  me  and 
told  me  to  write  to  him  if  ever  I  wanted 
a  friend." 

Kurt  looked  horrified. 

"He  told  you  that,  did  he?  Well,  all 

I  can  say  is "  He  didn't  finish  the 

sentence;  his  expression  of  disgust  spoke 
for  him. 

On  their  way  down  to  the  cottage  he  let 
fall  a  remark  which  she  pondered  later  on 
when  she  went  to  bed  and  it  kept  her 
awake  for  a  good  time  afterwards.  "I  can 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE         49 

tell  you  this.  I'd  do  anything  rather  than 
that  you  should  fall  into  the  hands  of  a 
man  like  that.  His  friendship!  I'd 
rather  you  had  his  hate."  It  had  not  the 
satisfactory  precision  of  an  avowal  but 
it  was  the  nearest  thing  to  it.  The 
question  now  was  how  far  she  could 
push  her  advantage.  Should  she  or 
should  she  not  make  further  use  of  Mr. 
Galton? 

ii 

The  next  morning  Kurt  did  not  turn  up 
but  sent  a  note,  which  began  without  the 
customary  "Dear."  Evidently  he  was  not 
bold  enough  to  address  her  as  Elinor, 
which  even  in  speaking  he  had  never  yet 
done.  He  had  once  told  her  he  invented 
special  names  for  people  he  liked,  but  so 
far  he  had  not  invented  a  special  one  for 
her. 

"A  line  to  say  I  shan't  be  coming  to  the 
cottage  this  afternoon.  I've  promised  to 
play  poker  with  some  men  here.  But  if  I 
may  I'll  look  in  after  supper. — R.  K." 

That  was  all  and  it  wasn't  encouraging. 
Her  first  impulse  was  to  send  a  cold  an- 


50          ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

swer  telling  him  not  to  trouble  to  come  in 
the  evening  but  she  thought  better  of  it 
and  wrote  instead: 

"Shall  expect  you  about  nine.  Hope 
you  won't  lose  all  your  money  " 

Mrs.  Colhouse  came  into  the  room  as 
she  was  handing  her  reply  to  the  mes- 
senger. "He's  not  coming  this  afternoon, 
mammy;  he's  playing  poker." 

"Is  that  so  ?  I  guess  they  know  they've 
got  a  jay,  poor  lad." 

Elinor  was  wearing  a  rather  soiled  dress- 
ing-gown; her  fringe  was  curled  but  not 
combed  out,  and  she  was  feeling  thor- 
oughly irritable.  She  threw  the  note  into 
the  fireplace  angrily  and  snapped  out: 

"That's  about  as  much  as  you  care. 
You  think  more  about  him  than  you  do 
of  me.  I  hope  they'll  darned  well  skin 
him.  He  deserves — " 

A  loud  knock  interrupted  her.  It  was 
repeated  peremptorily. 

"Get  back  to  the  kitchen  and  tell  that 
good-for-nothing  slut  to  open  the  door.  I 
believe  it's  a  visitor." 

Elinor  had  hardly  dashed  out  of  the 
room  and  up  the  stairs  when  she  heard  the 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE         51 

heavy  footsteps  of  the  impatient  arrival. 
She  stood  on  the  landing  listening. 

"Guess  I'm  speaking  to  Mrs.  Colhouse. 
Glad  to  make  your  acquaintance.  My 
name's  James  W.  Galton,  President  of  the 
Three  C's.  &  O.  Met  your  daughter  last 
evening.  She's  a  mighty  pretty  girl." 

Elinor  felt  mad.  There  was  her 
mother  in  that  old  alpaca  blouse  and  an 
apron,  and  her  hair  all  anyhow.  She  hur- 
riedly combed  out  her  fringe  and  threw  on 
the  dainty  blue  neglige  to  which  her 
mother  had,  by  her  direction,  put  the 
finishing  touches  while  she  was  at  the  hotel 
the  evening  before.  Of  course  she  found 
him  sitting  in  the  broken  chair;  equally  of 
course,  her  mother  was  standing  in  front 
of  him  like  a  servant.  "You've  taken 
us  by  surprise,  Mr.  Galton,"  she  said,  in 
her  best  manner  and  with  her  most  highly 
polished  accent. 

"Thought  I'd  come  without  making  any 
shakes  about  it,  seeing  I  know  the  old 
man." 

Mrs.  Colhouse  looked  startled,  and  at 
a  sign  from  her  daughter  subsided  into  a 
chair,  on  the  edge  of  which  she  sat  stiffly, 
looking  first  at  Elinor  then  at  the  visitor. 

"Now  I  want  you  to  look  upon  me  as  a 


52         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

friend  of  the  family.  I've  got  a  proposal 
to  make.  I've  got  to  git  off  to-morrow  to 
Detroit.  What  do  you  say  to  coming  in 
the  cyar  and  bringing  that  young  English 
feller  with  you?  Yew  can  stay  a  day  or 
two  there.  There's  fine  stores" — he 
looked  Elinor  up  and  down  admiringly — 
"and  I'll  see  you  have  passes  and  sleepers 
back.  What  do  you  say?"  He  ad- 
dressed himself  to  Mrs.  Colhouse,  whose 
face  showed  more  and  more  surprise  as 
she  realised  that  his  invitation  included 
her. 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Galton,  but  I  couldn't 
go.  Thank  you  very  much."  She  looked 
at  her  daughter  with  a  frightened  expres- 
sion. 

Elinor  was  thinking  quickly.  What 
was  his  object?  It  couldn't  be  disinter- 
ested kindness.  What  ought  she  to  do? 
Kurt  would  certainly  not  go  and  if  she 
went  without  him  she  knew  she  would 
never  see  him  again.  And  what  use  was 
Galton  in  comparison  with  the  other? 

"I'm  afraid  it's  impossible,  Mr.  Galton. 
My  mother  couldn't  come,  and  of  course  I 
couldn't  go  without  her." 

He  glanced  at  her  doubtingly.     "It's  as 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE         53 

you  like,"  he  said.  "Folk  sometimes  like 
a  trip,  and  I  hoped  your  mother  would 
come — as  I  know  the  doctor." 

He  got  up  and  offered  his  hand  to  Mrs. 
Colhouse. 

"Glad  to  have  made  your  acquaintance, 
ma'm.  If  there's  anything  I  can  do  for 
you  at  any  time,  yew  let  me  know.  I've 
given  my  address  to  your  daughter. 
Good-bye,  Miss  Colhouse,  if  you  change 
your  mind,  you've  only  to  come  along  with 
your  young  Englishman.  We  leave  at 
nine-thirty." 

Without  more  ado  he  strode  out  of  the 
room  and  out  of  the  house,  slamming  the 
door  behind  him. 

Elinor  knew  that  her  mother  was  ex- 
pecting at  least  a  comment  from  her  on  the 
railroad  president's  abrupt  arrival  and  de- 
parture, but  she  was  in  no  mood  to  gratify 
her.  She  was  feeling  generally  sore  with- 
out exactly  knowing  why,  except  that 
everything  was  going  wrong  through  no 
fault  of  hers. 

Mrs.  Colhouse  sighed  deeply  and  moved 
slowly  to  the  dining-table  end  of  the  room. 

That  was  mammy  all  over,  off  to  act  the 


54         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

martyr  in  the  kitchen  as  usual,  a  sickening 
habit.  Elinor  called  her  back. 

"Can't  you  wait  a  moment?  You  act 
as  though  you  couldn't  keep  out  of  that 
kitchen." 

Mrs.  Colhouse  felt  for  the  black  ribbon 
under  the  collar  of  her  blouse  and  pulled  a 
watch  out  of  her  bodice. 

Elinor  watched  her  resentfully.  "You 
can  spare  yourself  trying  to  tell  me  the 
time  without  your  spectacles.  I  know 
you're  going  to  say  you  must  get  dinner 
ready.  It  so  happens  that  there's  cold 
meat  and  baked  potatoes,  so  you  don't 
have  to." 

Her  mother  did  not  reply  but  sighed 
again  and  returned  the  watch. 

"Mammy "  Elinor  intended  her 

mother  to  know  that  she  was  exercising 
great  self-restraint  "how  many  times  have 
I  told  you  not  to  go  to  the  door  looking 
like  that?" 

"What  was  I  to  do?  I  hadn't  time  to 
think,  and  the  help  was  upstairs  sweeping. 
Besides — he  walked  in  anyway." 

"Yes,  and  if  you'd  have  done  as  I've 
told  you  times  over,  you'd  have  been  out 
of  the  road.  But  what's  the  use  of  my 
trying  to  make  a  decent  appearance?" 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE         55 

Elinor's  despairing  gesture  elicited 
another  sigh. 

"I  believe  the  best  thing  I  can  do  is  to 
go  to  Detroit  with  Galton."  She  hadn't 
the  slightest  intention  of  doing  so;  she  was 
only  trying  to  goad  her  mother  into  an  ex- 
pression of  disapproval.  But  she  failed. 

"After  your  New  York  doings,  I  don't 
think  it  much  matters  what  you  do." 

"New  York  doings.  What  d'you 
mean?" 

Mrs.  Colhouse  drew  in  her  breath  in- 
stead of  sighing  and  closed  her  mouth 
firmly. 

Elinor  intended  to  have  it  out.  "I  in- 
sist on  your  telling  me.  Who's  been  gas- 
sing about  my  business?  Of  course  I 
know.  Felton.  Pshaw!"  She  gave 
vent  to  a  bitter  half  laugh.  "He's  a  fine 
one  to  talk  against  me."  She  threw  her- 
self angrily  back  in  her  chair. 

"Did  I  ever  say  it  was  Felton  Crane?" 
Mrs.  Colhouse  asked  in  an  irritatingly 
even  voice. 

"You  know  he's  crazy  with  jealousy, 
he'd  say  anything.  What  did  he  say 
anyway?  I'tm  (determined  to  know, 
and  you  can't  fool  me.  It's  him  right 
enough." 


56         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

"I'm  not  going  to  say  anything  more, 
Nell,  I  had  enough  of  it  last  time." 

"You  hadn't  any  business  to  talk  to  him 
then  and  you've  less  now.  What  right 
has  he  got  sticking  his  nose  into  my 
affairs?" 

"Have  you  treated  him  fair,  Nell? 
Why  don't  you  break  it  off  with  him? 
You  don't  want  him,  do  you?  He's  no 
good  anyway." 

Elinor  changed  her  tactics  suddenly. 

"What  right  have  you  got  to  say  he's 
no  good?  He's  a  darned  sight  better 
than  nothing." 

Her  mother  looked  bewildered. 

"What  d'you  mean  anyhow?  If  you 
want  him,  why  don't  you  marry  him?" 

"You  know  perfectly  well  Felton  hasn't 
a  cent.  And,  besides,  I  don't  mean  to 
live  in  Waterville  for  the  rest  of  my  life; 
I'd  rather  be  dead — nor  in  America  either 
— unless  it's  New  York." 

"I   thought "    Mrs.   Colhouse   this 

time  spoke  with  a  certain  emphasis  "you'd 
done  with  New  York  but  as  you've  never 
told  me  anything " 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  tellj?  You 
know  Hilyard  can't  marry  me  yet.  I've 
told  you  that  and  I'm  not  waiting  on  him. 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE         57 

It's   Richard  Kurt  I'm  thinking  about." 

"But  he  hasn't  even  come  to-day. 
You  can  see  that  boy's  not  thinking  of 
marrying." 

For  an  instant  Elinor  faltered,  but  she 
put  confidence  into  her  tone  as  she  an- 
swered: "That's  what  you  think.  He's 
coming  here  this  evening  after  supper.  I 
want  you  to  tell  him  about  the  president's 
asking  me  to  go  to  Detroit." 

"What  good  will  that  do?" 

"Mammy!  Can't  you  see  Mr.  Gal- 
ton's  crazy  to  get  hold  of  me?  He  only 
asked  Kurt  because  he  thinks  he's  a  young 
sucker.  You  tell  him  that." 

The  look  of  resignation  returned  to 
Mrs.  Colhouse's  face. 

"I'll  tell  him,  and  if  ever  you  marry  him 
you'll  be  mighty  lucky,  I  reckon." 

iii 

Elinor  was  well  aware  of  the  power  of 
dress  to  enhance  an  appearance  and  she 
knew  that  no  woman  could  make  better 
use  of  it  than  she.  In  spite  of  Kurt's 
apparent  indifference  to  her  best  effects, 
she  simply  couldn't  believe  that  he  was  as 
unappreciative  as  he  seemed  to  be.  As 
likely  as  not  it  was  only  part  of  his  shy- 


5&         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

ness,  or  it  might  very  well  be  that  in  Eng- 
land it  was  not  considered  good  style  to 
make  flattering  personal  remarks. 

She  had  decided  that  on  this  occasion 
she  was  going  to  look  pale  and  sad.  She 
therefore  used  with  discrimination  the 
liquid  powder,  avoided  lipsalve  and 
selected  a  loose-fitting  teagown  of  black 
crepe  de  Chine  which,  if  properly  sup- 
ported by  the  complexion  and  the  coiffure, 
would  lend  her  that  air  of  wan  dignity  she 
had  so  often  admired  on  the  stage.  And 
after  all,  was  not  life  a  stage  and  were  we 
not  all  players? 

Thinking  thus,  looking  at  her  dress  as 
it  lay  on  the  bed  and  bearing  in  mind  that 
it  might  fall  open  while  she  reclined,  as 
she  had  decided,  on  the  sofa,  she  selected 
a  diaphanous  golden-coloured  petticoat; 
she  would  wear  no  corset,  only  her  gossa- 
mer chemise  beneath.  She  had  arranged 
the  little  sitting-room  carefully  before  go- 
ing up  to  dress,  had  moved  the  sofa 
against  the  wall  with  the  green-shaded 
lamp  casting  its  effulgence  upon  the  middle 
and  end  of  it  but  throwing  a  subdued  and 
agreeably  melodramatic  light  upon  the 
part  where  her  head  would  lie.  She  had 
placed  the  better  of  the  two  arm-chairs 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE         59 

beside  it  with  its  back  to  the  green  lamp, 
and  had  told  her  mother  to  sit  in  the 
broken-springed  one  on  the  other  side  of 
the  fireplace.  She  had  also  brought  out 
two  special  cushions,  a  black  and  gold  and 
a  crimson  one,  to  place  under  her  head 
and  behind  her  back.  The  only  other 
light  was  in  the  corner  beside  the  door 
which  would  enable  her  to  be  seen  as  she 
came  in  but  the  high  part  of  the  sofa  and 
the  pillow  would  screen  her  head  from  it 
when  she  reclined. 

She  did  not  hurry  over  her  dressing, 
leaving  the  finishing  touches  till  he  entered 
the  house;  this  was  just  as  well,  for  it  was 
nearly  half-past  nine  when  she  heard  foot- 
steps outside.  She  had  even  begun  to  feel 
anxious  and  was  relieved  when  his  voice 
confirmed  his  arrival.  Her  entry  threat- 
ened to  be  a  failure  for  so  deeply  inter- 
ested did  he  seem  to  be  in  something  her 
mother  was  saying  that  she  had  to  stand 
some  seconds  in  the  doorway  before  he 
came  towards  her.  Facing  the  light  as 
he  was  she  noticed  that  his  hair  was  less 
smooth  than  usual  and  that  he  was  flushed; 
his  manner,  too,  was  excited  and  wasn't 
he  a  trifle  unsteady  on  his  feet?  Elinor 
was  something  of  an  expert  in  detecting 


60         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

such  signs  from  a  considerable  experience 
of  Dr.  Colhouse.  As  she  sank  languidly 
back  on  her  cushions  his  face  showed 
concern. 

"I  hope  you  aren't  ill?"  he  asked. 

"Only  one  of  my  nervous  headaches, 
Jon't  pay  any  attention  to  that.  How  did 
you  come  out  from  your  game?" 

"Never  mind  about  that  rotten  game. 

Your  mother's  been  telling  me "  he 

looked  round,  evidently  intending  Mrs. 
Colhouse  to  hear,  but  she  had  noiselessly 
left  the  room,  "about  that  damned  Gal- 
ton."  He  spoke  furiously. 

This  anger  was  exactly  what  she 
wanted.  She  put  one  arm  beside  her  head 
and  rested  her  lovely  face  on  it,  and  with 
the  other  hand  touched  his  arm  lightly  and 

soothingly.  "Don't  be  so  cross " 

and  then,  very  softly,  "dear." 

He  jumped  up  with  an  excited  flourish 
of  his  hand.  "Cross!  Don't  you  see 
what  that  blackguard  is  after  ?  He  thinks 
I'm  an  utter  fool  he  can  humbug  as  he 
pleases.  What  he  wants  is  to — is  to " 

She  knew  that  he  was  unable  to  express 
with  appropriate  respect  for  her  the  presi- 
dent's evil  designs.  She  closed  her  eyes 
an  instant.  "I'm  not  in  a  very  happy  posi- 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE         6 1 

tion  with  no  father  to  protect  me;  and 
mamma's  so  unsuspecting.  Do  you  really 
think  a  man  of  Mr.  Gallon's  age  and  posi- 
tion would " 

"That  scoundrel  would  do  anything. 
He  thinks  because  he's  rich  and  he's  got 
a  rotten  private  car  that  he  can  do  what 
he  pleases.  I  know  the  sort  of  man  he  is ! 

You  don't.  How  should  you?  I  say " 

he  came  over  and  stood  looking  down 
at  her  "promise  me  you'll  have  nothing  to 
do  with  him.  He's  sure  to  try  every 
dodge — and  I  may  not  even  know " 

She  put  her  hand  on  his  arm  and  pressed 
it.  "Sit  down,  Richard.  May  I  call  you 
that?" 

He  seized  her  hand  and  pressed  it  be- 
tween both  of  his.  "May  you?  I  love 
it."  He  raised  her  hand  to  his  lips,  hold- 
ing it  there. 

She  could  feel  the  heat  of  his  lips,  an 
unnatural  heat  and  as  he  just  breathed  a 
kiss  upon  her  fingers  she  withdrew  them 
slowly,  touching  his  face  as  she  did  so. 
It  was  very  hot.  His  eyes  travelled  down 
her  figure,  rose  to  her  face  again;  they 
were  very  bright;  the  light  from  the 
corner  of  the  door  shone  full  on  his  face, 
he  was  breathing  hard.  Neither  said  a 


62          ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

word,  only  looked  into  each  other's  eyes. 
Her  breast  rose  and  fell  without  her  voli- 
tion. It  was  a  tense  moment  but  she  must 
preserve  her  detachment;  that  was  vital. 
Suddenly  he  bent  down  and  kissed  her  on 
the  cheek. 

"Richard!     Richard!" 

He  drew  back;  she  knew  he  was  half 
frightened  at  his  act. 

"Please  forgive  me,  Elinor."  Again 
he  seized  her  hand,  kissing  it  and  murmur- 
ing: "I  couldn't  help  it,  I  really  couldn't. 
You  look  so  lovely  and  you're  so  defence- 
less and  the  thought  of  that  black- 
guard  " 

Elinor  played  a  trump.  She  drew  her 
hand  away  from  his  mouth  and  taking 
one  of  his,  kissed  it  and  held  it  to  her 
breast.  But  he  pulled  it  away,  saying: 
"How  can  you  kiss  my  hand?  It's  yours, 

it's  yours  I  must  kiss "  and  brought 

hers  passionately  to  his  lips  again.  She 
half  rose  and  with  the  other  arm  encircled 
his  neck,  and  as  she  fell  back  she  bore  him 
with  her,  down  and  down.  He  buried 
his  face  in  her  breast,  fell  forward  from 
his  chair,  his  knee  against  the  sofa,  and 
ever  she  held  his  neck  with  her  arm  as 
he  ruffled  her  more  with  every  movement. 
His  lips  were  upon  hers  now,  stayed  there. 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE         63 

His  hand  touched  her  breast,  followed 
her  form,  withdrew  in  fear,  dared  again, 
remained.  Elinor  had  not  experienced 
this  performance  unmoved  and  when  pal- 
pitating, unmanned,  ashamed,  he  stood 
away,  regarding  her  as  though  she  had  be- 
come his  handiwork,  with  a  seemly  and 
self-protective  instinct  she  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands. 

"Elinor,  dear  Elinor "  his  voice 

was  muffled  in  sobbing  gasps;  he  threw 
himself  on  his  knees  beside  her,  "I  love 
you !  I  love  you !  You  belong  to  me  now, 
you  belong  to  me,  don't  you?" 

Very  slowly  she  removed  her  hands  and 
gazed  softly  at  him.  At  last,  with  all  the 
tenderness  she  could  put  into  her  tone, 
she  murmured,  "Nothing  matters  from 
now  on.  I  love  you,  Richard." 

He  smothered  her  mouth  with  kisses. 
"Darling — darling — darling"  was  the  only 
word  he  could  find. 

Now  she  gave  herself  up  to  him  with 
complete  self-abandonment.  Her  black 
crepe  de  Chine  could  go  to  the  devil  for  all 
she  cared.  Yes!  and  her  Valenciennes- 
trimmed  chemise  too!  What  did  any- 
thing matter  now?  He  behaved  desper- 
ately for  several  minutes,  until,  in  fact, 


64         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

she  was  really  beginning  to  feel  the  wear 
and  tear.  He  ceased  rather  suddenly, 
and  stood  up,  rocking  a  little. 

Elinor  was  composing  herself;  her  skill 
enabled  her  to  accomplish  such  details  as 
straightening  her  dress  and  arranging  her 
hair  without  the  absurd  and  grating  awk- 
wardness which  must,  she  knew,  generally 
be  displayed  on  such  occasions.  Without 
having  had  an  exactly  similar  experience 
previously,  the  episode  was  not  entirely 
unfamiliar. 

"Dearest — "  he.  leant  over  her  and 
kissed  her  "I'll  never  do  it  again.  I  feel 
as  big  a  beast  as  Galton.  What  can  I 
do  to  make  up  for  it?" 

She  had  put  her  feet  to  the  floor  but 
still  reclined  against  the  pretty  cushions 
with  an  air  of  exhaustion;  he  was  beside 
her  now,  holding  her  hand  between  both 
of  his  and  looking  at  her  anxiously.  For 
a  moment  thus,  then,  with  a  quick  impul- 
sive movement,  she  sat  up  straight  and 
put  her  other  hand  on  the  back  of  his 
and  with  quivering  earnestness  in  her  voice 
as  she  gazed  intently  into  his  eyes:  "Only 
one  thing,  Richard.  You  must  tell 
mamma  at  once  we're  engaged.  I  feel 
she'll  suspect  something,  this  house  is  a 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE         65 

sounding  board;  one  hears  every  woird." 
She  kept  her  eyes  fixed  on  him,  waiting 
for  his  answer.  It  was  a  critical  moment. 

For  an  instant  he  hesitated,  as  though 
he  were  making  an  effort  to  collect  him- 
self and  to  think;  then  he  kissed  her  gently. 
"Engaged!  We  are  engaged,  aren't  we? 
Of  course  I'll  tell  your  mother  at  once. 
When?  To-morrow?  But — what  will 
she  say?  Won't  she  think  it  rather 
sudden?" 

"Mamma  likes  you  so  much  she'll  ac- 
cept it  at  once.  She  may  be  a  little  sur- 
prised at  first  but  I  know  it  will  make  her 
happy.  Come  to-morrow  morning.  Now 
you'd  better  go."  She  got  up,  holding  his 
arm.  They  moved  out  of  the  room  to- 
gether and  he  put  his  arms  round  her  once 
more.  The  front  door  was  open  and  they 
were  in  the  full  light  of  the  hall  lamp  but 
what  did  that  matter  now? 

"Once  more,  darling."  Again  he  kissed 
her  and  as  he  went  down  the  path  she 
saw  he  was  trying  to  walk  backwards  to 
see  the  last  of  her,  but  he  was  too  unsteady 
and  had  to  give  it  up. 

Without  an  instant's  delay,  Elinor 
locked  the  door,  put  out  the  lights  and  ran 
up  to  her  mother's  room.  Mrs.  Col- 


66          ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

house  was  sitting  by  a  table  with  a  lamp  on 
it,  sewing  a  trimming  on  to  one  of  her 
daughter's  blouses.  She  looked  up  with 
a  surprised  expression  as  Elinor  entered 
and  bestowed  a  resounding  kiss  on  her 
mother's  cheek. 

"He's  asked  me  to  marry  him,  mammy, 
and  he's  going  to  announce  our  engage- 
ment to  you  to-morrow." 

Mrs.  Colhouse  put  down  her  work  and 
took  off  her  spectacles.  "It's  going  to  be 
marriage  this  time  then?" 

Elinor  was  in  too  exalted  a  state  to  let 
anything  annoy  her.  "It  certainly  is,  and 
what's  more, — but  never  mind."  She  had 
been  about  to  add:  "I  intend  to  marry  him 
the  very  first  moment  I  can,"  but  she 
wasn't  taking  any  chances;  her  mother 
might  blurt  it  out  to  him  and  that  was 
the  last  thing  she  wanted. 

"There's  many  a  slip,  Nell.  And  what 
will  his  mother  say?" 

Elinor  smiled.  "If  his  mother  don't 
like  it,  she'll  have  to  lump  it.  It's  her 
funeral,  not  mine." 

iv 

Elinor  was  under  no  illusions  regarding 
her  hold  on  Richard,  but  she  was  deter- 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE          67 

mined  to  lose  no  sleep  over  it  and  to 
husband  her  physical  as  well  as  her  moral 
resources.  When,  on  awaking  to  con- 
sciousness after  eight  good  hours  of  re- 
freshing and  invigorating  sleep,  she  slipped 
out  of  bed  and  into  the  faded  blue  dress- 
ing-gown, that  old  and  trusty  friend  re- 
minded her  rather  unkindly  of  other  morn- 
ings disappointing  in  the  fulfilment  of  over- 
night pledges.  But  she  kept  a  confident 
countenance  to  her  mother,  who  scruti- 
nised her  closely  as  they  sat  in  the  kitchen 
taking  their  morning  coffee,  and  in  spite 
of  inward  twitchings,  Elinor  put  away  a 
good  round  of  griddle  cakes  and  maple 
syrup,  bestowing  praise  on  her  mother  as 
she  did  so. 

"Nobody's  cakes  are  like  yours, 
mammy." 

Mrs.  Colhouse  accepted  the  compliment 
joylessly.  "What  I  want  to  know  is  what 
you  want  for  dinner." 

"Lunch,  you  mean.  Grilled  chicken, 
green  peas  and  little  new  sweet  potatoes. 
I've  got  some  bars  of  Caillard's  chocolate, 
and  if  that  creature  will  get  the  cream  I'll 
make  a  souffle" 

Then  she  went  into  the  other  room  and 
settled  down  in  the  rocking-chair  to  think. 


68         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

No  one  knew  better  what  morning  reac- 
tions could  mean.  She  pictured  Richard 
Kurt  walking  in  his  room  at  the  hotel  and 
asking  himself  what  he  had  really  done 
and  said  the  previous  evening.  She  knew 
but  too  well  the  slenderness  of  the  thread 
by  which  she  held  him.  Would  the  thread 
hold?  Would  he  come  that  morning  and 
tell  her  mother?  How  far  would  he  be- 
lieve he  was  committed?  This  separation 
was  dangerous;  one  never  knew  what  a 
man  would  do  once  he  was  out  of  your 
sight.  But  he  wasn't  a  man,  and  he  was 
English  with  English  ideas  about  the  help- 
lessness of  girls  and  honour.  He'd  gone 
pretty  far,  his  passion  had  got  hold  of  him, 
he  was  wild  for  her — last  night.  Even 
after  he  had  told  mammy  she  wouldn't 
have  got  him  until  they  were  safely 
married.  But  what  mattered  was  that  he 
should  come  now. 

With  knit  brows  and  thoughtful  mien 
Elinor  went  up  to  her  room  to  dress. 
This  morning  she  meant  to  be  fresh  and 
flower-like.  She  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  she  could  not  do  better  than  wear 
the  blue  dimity,  but  she  selected  a  different 
sash  and  she  did  her  hair  like  Mrs.  Lang- 
try  with  a  coil  in  the  nape  of  the  neck. 


CHAPTER  III 


IT  was  a  glorious  day.  Water  and  sky 
were  blue  as  they  sat  under  an  awning, 
steaming  up  the  Straights.  Elinor  was 
charmingly  dressed  in  a  tailor  suit  and  a 
neat  toque;  he  wore  a  well-cut  blue  serge 
suit  and  a  blue  tie  with  white  spots :  their 
small  valises  lay  beside  them.  Everybody 
looked  at  them  admiringly,  so  far  all  had 
gone  well. 

The  trip  was  Elinor's  arrangement. 
They  were  to  join  her  friends  the  O'Haras 
at  a  place  called  St.  Mary's  at  the  head  of 
the  Straits  and  spend  a  couple  of  days 
there.  It  was  to  be  a  little  junket  before 
he  returned,  as  return  he  must,  to  his 
work,  which  seemed  to  be  much  on  his 
mind  now  they  were  engaged.  Dennis 
O'Hara  was  a  journalist  and  had  married 
Elinor's  only  intimate  friend,  Julia  Ben- 
dixon.  She  didn't  tell  her  everything,  but 
she  told  her  as  much  as  she  wanted  to  tell, 
and  in  her  own  way. 


70         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

Richard  had  been  difficult  at  first,  had 
asked  for  some  unnecessary  explanations 
and  had  shown  needless  concern  about  her 
being  adequately  chaperoned.  He  had 
also  been  apprehensive  as  to  what  Mrs. 
Colhouse  would  think  of  their  going  off 
for  two  or  three  days  in  this  unexpected 
way.  It  had  been  agreed  that  the  engage- 
ment must  be  kept  secret  until  Uncle  Theo 
came  back  in  September.  He  had  always 
got  on  with  Uncle  Theo,  and  Aunt  Kate 
was  American.  If  he  wrote  to  his  father 
or  mother  they  wouldn't  understand  and 
she  couldn't  imagine  how  angry  they 
would  be.  That  couldn't  be  thought  of, 
but  when  Uncle  Theo  and  Aunt  Katie  saw 
how  sweet  and  charming  and  pretty  she 
was,  they'd  write  to  his  parents  and  put  it 
all  right.  Meanwhile,  he'd  go  back  to 
Cliftonburg  and  work  for  her  sake. 

Elinor  had  let  him  talk  but  she  kept  her 
own  counsel.  The  trip  up  the  Straits  was 
indispensable  but  it  had  not  been  easy  to 
bring  about.  As  late  as  the  previous  eve- 
ning he  had  spoken  seriously  to  her  mother 
about  their  engagement  and  told  her  that 
he  ought  to  go  back  to  Cliftonburg  at  once. 
Even  that  very  morning  when  he  arrived 
at  the  cottage  with  his  bag  to  take  her  to 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE         71 

the  boat,  he  had  expressed  his  doubts 
again.  "Really,  do  you  think  it's  wise  to 
go  for  this  trip?  I've  a  sort  of  feeling 
against  it." 

But  here  they  were,  safely  on  the  boat, 
and  for  the  moment  at  least  he  was  in  high 
spirits.  His  moods  changed  suddenly. 
At  moments  a  preoccupied  look  came  into 
his  face  and  if  she  spoke  to  him,  he  started 
and  replied  absently,  even  coldly.  She  did 
not  attempt  to  analyse  her  feelings 
towards  him;  his  manner,  his  appearance, 
his  voice  were  factors  just  as  much  as  the 
material  advantages  she  was  certain  to 
obtain  if  she  married  him.  She  was 
shocked,  though,  at  his  off-hand,  familiar 
way  of  treating  inferiors.  He  spoke  jest- 
ingly to  the  purser  and  even  chaffed  the 
coloured  stewards  in  the  dining-saloon  so 
that  they  grinned  all  over  their  faces  when- 
ever he  spoke  to  them.  While  he  was 
thus  carrying  on,  she  ruminated.  She 
would  have  to  talk  to  him  seriously  before 
they  got  to  St.  Mary's.  How  was  she  to 
begin?  The  one  thing  quite  defined  in 
her  mind  was  that  they  must  be  married 
at  once.  She  could  count  on  the  assistance 
of  the  O'Haras.  Dennis  was  as  cute  as 
they  make  them,  but  she  would  infinitely 


72         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

prefer  to  run  the  show  herself.  Going  up 
on  deck,  after  the  meal,  she  made  some 
allusion  to  his  behaviour  at  table,  showing 
him  she  did  not  like  it.  He  began  by 
laughing  it  off  but  his  face  became  grave 
when  she  said  that  it  cheapened  her. 
What  did  he  think  they  would  take  her 
for)?  And  he  answered:  "I'm  awfully 
sorry  if  it  annoyed  you,  dear.  I  get  a  sort 
of  reckless  mood  sometimes.  You  see, 
all  this  has  been  rather  exciting,  hasn't 
it?" 

"I  don't  see  why  that  should  make  you 
give  a  Barnum  show." 

He  looked  away  from  her  into  the  dis- 
tance and  lighted  a  cigarette,  threw  the 
match  over  the  side.  "Oh,  it's  an  in  for 
a  penny,  in  for  a  pound  feeling.  Perhaps 
you  can't  understand  what  I  mean.  You 
see,  you  haven't  known  me  long."  He 
seemed  to  be  waiting  for  her  to  say  some- 
thing. 

It  might  be  a  moment  for  sweetness, 
but  she  couldn't  summon  it.  He  ought  to 
show  more  consideration  for  her. 

"When  a  girl  has  given  her  life  into  a 
man's  hands "  her  face  became  ear- 
nest, her  voice  trembled  "when  she  has 
given  him  all  she  has  to  give,  she  can't 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE         73 

help  caring  about  every  word  he  says, 
everything  he  does." 

As  she  said  the  words  his  expression 
changed.  He  threw  away  his  cigarette 
and,  taking  her  gloved  hand,  held  it  be- 
tween both  of  his  browned  ones. 

"My  dear  little  girl,  I  am  so  sorry.  I 
had  no  intention  on  earth — I  had  no  idea 
I  was  hurting  you.  What  can  I  do? 
Tell  me,  what  can  I  do?" 

Elinor  sighed  and  looked  beyond  him. 
The  dark  lashes  drooped  over  her  large 
brown  eyes,  which  slowly  filled  with  tears. 
His  words  had  touched  her,  for  indeed  she 
was  at  his  mercy,  at  the  mercy  of  the  world 
— beautiful  but  alone.  She  drew  a  tiny 
perfumed  handkerchief  edged  with  Valen- 
ciennes from  her  pocket  and  passed  it 
across  her  eyes.  He  continued  to  press 
her  hand,  begged  her  to  forgive  him,  to 
tell  him  what  he  could  do  to  comfort  her. 

"You  are  a  man,  Richard.  You  can't 
understand  what  a  girl  feels  at  a  time  like 
this  when  everything,  her  whole  life 
depends  upon  one  man.  What  is  to  be- 
come of  me  if — if " 

"Dear  little  girl — darling — if  what — if 
what?"  His  utterance  was  spasmodic;  he 
was  certainly  moved. 


74         ELINOR    COL HOUSE 

"Rlichard  dear,  supposing  you  go  off 
and  leave  me  now.  Supposing,  for  one 
reason  or  another,  for  your  mother's  sake 
or  because  you  think  it  wiser — with  the 
best  intentions — supposing  you  go  off  to 
England.  Supposing  I  never  see  you 
again  after  we  get  back  to  Manitou.  You 
leave  me  there  with  poor  old  mammy  and 
you  go.  What  could  I  do  ?  What  would 
become  of  me?" 

"Elinor !  My  darling !  I  should  be  an 
utter  blackguard  to  do  such  a  thing, 
surely  you  can't  imagine  it.  We're  en- 
gaged— nothing  could  make  me  go  back 
on  that.  Besides — I  love  you.  I  want 
you  for  my  own  wife."  He  looked 
round;  a  burly  negro  was  coiling  a  rope 
a  few  feet  away.  "I  wish  I  could  kiss 
you,  darling,"  and  he  pressed  her  hand 
hard  between  his. 

Elinor  sighed  again  softly  but  deeply, 
she  could  not  be  comforted.  Again  she 
looked  away  into  the  distance  under  the 
deep  lashes;  again  the  far-away,  sad  look 
came  into  the  deep  brown  eyes.  And  he 
sat  mutely  watching  her. 

"Ah,  Richard  dear.  Life  is  so  hard  for 

a  girl  who  is  alone.  If  only — if " 

She  pressed  his  hand.  He  must  see  she 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE         7$ 

was  too  much  under  the  influence  of  emo- 
tion to  go  on. 

"Yes?     Yes?" 

She  made  an  effort,  swallowed  the  sob 
in  her  throat,  mastered  herself.  "If  I  be- 
longed to  you  legally  as — as" — she  looked 
round.  The  negro,  seeing  there  was  no 
fun  to  be  got  out  of  watching  them,  had 
disappeared  "as  I  do  the  other  way,  and  if 
we  could  only  be  married,  I  wouldn't  mind 
anything.  I'd  wait  years  if  necessary." 
She  had  been  supporting  her  head  with 
her  elbow  on  the  taffrail  as  she  gazed 
sadly  into  the  lake  but  she  turned  suddenly 
towards  him  and  placed  both  hands  in 
his.  "Richard,  can't  we  get  married — 
now — at  once?  Will  you,  Richard?" 
She  looked  intently  into  his  face.  His 
eyes  were  averted.  A  moment  passed. 

"Elinor  dear,  I  want  to  do  everything 
you  wish.  But  if  I  marry  you  without  my 
parents'  consent,  the  governor  will  cut  me 
off.  We  can't  live  on  nothing,  can  we?" 

"But  they  needn't  know.  We'll  keep  it 
secret  from  everyone  but  mamma.  I 
should  have  to  tell  her — after — after 
what  has  taken  place." 

He  relaxed  his  hold  on  her  hand  and 
she  withdrew  it  as  he  moved  uneasily  in 


76         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

his  chair.  "But,  Elinor,  I  couldn't  marry 
without  at  least  seeing  my  people  and 
explaining." 

There  was  a  ring  of  horror  in  her  voice 
as  she  answered:  "Then  you  do  mean  to 
go  to  England  before  we're  married.  Oh, 

Richard,  Richard "  She  buried  her 

face  in  her  hands. 

Greatly  distressed,  he  tried  to  comfort 
her.  "What  can  I  do?  What  can  I 
do?" 

"How  can — can  you  ask?"  She  man- 
aged to  bring  the  words  out  between  her 
shaking  sobs. 

There  ensued  a  longish  pause,  punctu- 
ated by  the  sound  of  her  weeping,  which 
she  kept  within  close  audibility. 

At  last  he  spoke.  "Elinor,  dear  Elinor, 
it  shall  be  as  you  wish,  but " 

She  continued  to  sob;  her  whole  body 
was  quivering. 

"But,"  he  went  on,  "if  it  comes  out,  if 
the  governor  hears  of  it,  if  he  disowns  me, 
you  mustn't  blame  me.  If  you're  ready 
to  take  the  rough  with  the  smooth  and 
chance  it,  I  am.  Now"  he  put  his  hand 
gently  on  her  shoulder  "now,  darling,  do 
stop  crying." 

With  a  great  effort,  she  stifled  her  sobs, 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE         77 

raised  her  head,  whispered  "Dearest 
Richard,  thank  you,  thank  you,  thank  you" 
— and  turning  her  back  to  him  and  the 
boat,  she  put  her  toque  straight. 


The  O'Haras  were  awaiting  them  on 
the  landing-stage  with  expectant  curiosity; 
in  fact  Dennis  stared  at  Richard  as  though 
his  globular  blue  eyes  were  about  to  pop 
out  of  his  head.  Elinor  had  never  re- 
alised how  badly  he  dressed;  his  hard  felt 
hat  was  the  wrong  shape;  and  his  waist- 
coat, cut  much  too  low,  displayed  an  un- 
becoming amount  of  decorative  shirt  front. 
She  glanced  at  Richard  with  apprehension; 
the  impression  made  on  him  by  Dennis  at 
this  juncture  might  be  of  importance.  He 
did  not,  however,  seem  to  notice  these  de- 
fects, and  when,  after  reciprocal  introduc- 
tions, Julia  took  her  arm  and  they  walked 
on  to  the  hotel,  which  was  within  a  hun- 
dred yards  or  so  of  the  quay,  the  two 
men  appeared  to  "cotton"  to  each  other. 
To  Julia's  "Say,  Nell,  you  have  been 
smart,"  Elinor  replied  by  a  warning  look 
and  a  whispered  "This  isn't  the  time  to 
gas,  Juley."  Juley  responded  with  an 
understanding  wink  and  Elinor,  turning 


78          ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

round,  made  a  remark  to  Richard  in 
order  to  bring  the  two  men  level  with  them 
so  that  they  could  all  walk  together.  She 
had  no  confidence  in  Dennis's  discretion, 
and  he  might  ask  undesirable  questions  or 
make  unsuitable  remarks. 

Richard  luckily  refused  Dennis's  invita- 
tion to  a  cocktail  and  went  to  his  room 
while  Elinor  was!  accompanied  to  hers  by 
Julia,  who,  as  the  door  closed  behind  them, 
exclaimed:  "My  dear,  I  didn't  know  what 
to  do  about  the  rooms." 

Elinor  laid  her  toque  carefully  on  the 
bed,  which  was  a  double  one,  and  with  an 
expression  of  shocked  surprise  asked  her 
what  she  meant. 

"How  was  I  to  guess,  Nell?  But  any- 
way, is  it  going  right?"  There  was  a 
certain  anxiety  in  her  voice. 

Elinor  had  already  taken  a  hand  mirror 
and  some  other  small  objects  from  the  top 
of  her  valise  and  laid  them  on  the  toilet 
table  and  was  taking  a  side  view  of  herself. 
She  put  the  mirror  down  and  turned  round 
to  her  little  eager  friend,  whose  head  only 
reached  to  her  shoulder.  "We're  going 
to  be  married  at  once,  Juley,  and  you  and 
Dennis  must  help  me.  Will  you?" 

"Will  we?     You  bet  we  will.     But  tell 


ELINORCOLHOUSE         79 

me  quick,  quick,  what  you  want  us  to  do." 

Elinor  put  her  hand  to  her  forehead 
and  thought  a  moment.  "Could  you  get 
hold  of  Dennis?"  she  asked. 

"Now,  you  mean,  before  we've  talked?" 
Julia's  tone  was  disappointed. 

"Yes,  dear,  now.  Every  minute's  of 
importance.  Get  him.  I'll  explain  while 
he's  coming." 

"He's  in  the  bar,  I  reckon.  We'll  send 
a  bell  boy." 

Elinor  opened  her  carefully  packed 
valise.  One  side  of  it  she  left  strapped  as 
it  was;  that  side  was  not  wanted  yet. 

"Go  on,  Nell;  do  go  on,"  Julia  cried 
impatiently. 

Elinor  undid  her  sponge-bag  and  using 
her  tooth-brush  as  though  it  were  a 
lecturer's  wand,  she  pointed  at  the  door. 
"Richard  Kurt,  son  of  William  Kurt  of 
London,  nephew  of  Theophilus  Kurt, 
President  of  the  C.  W.  &  M.  Railway  sys- 
tem. He's  rich  or  will  be — his  father  is 
and  he's  in  the  best  society.  I  don't  know 
who  his  mother  was  but  she  certainly  be- 
longs to  the  aristocracy.  Without  exactly 
letting  on  as  to  what  she  was,  he  gave 
me  to  understand  that  she's  away  up  out 
there.  They've  got  a  London  house  and 


8o         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

one  in  the  country,  horses,  carriages  and 
footmen,  and  all  London  goes  to  their 

house  and "  Julia  was  hanging  on 

her  words  breathlessly  when  Dennis  en- 
tered the  room,  grinned  at  them  both  and, 
throwing  himself  on  the  bed,  lay  there 
with  his  hands  under  his  head. 

Elinor  waved  the  tooth-brush  at  him. 
"Get  off  there  with  your  dirty  shoes." 

"Dirty  shoes,"  he  repeated,  bending  his 
legs  back  and  examining  first  one,  then 
the  other.  "They're  brand  new  patent, 
four  dollars  and  fifty  cents  second-hand 
at  Ikey  Moss's  in  your  own  fashionable 
boulevard.  Yiou're  a  peach,  Nell,  a  real 
peach."  He  jumped  off  the  bed,  and 
going  up  to  Elinor,  kissed  her  on  the 
neck. 

She  pulled  away  from  him. 

"Juley,  do  make  him  behave.  This  is 
no  time  for  fooling." 

"No,  be  serious,  Dennis;  Nell  wants 
you  to  do  something  for  her." 

"Dennis."  Elinor  put  her  hand  on  his 
shoulder,  at  which  he  wriggled  as  though 
she  were  tickling  him,  winked  and  put  out 
his  tongue.  "Dennis,"  she  repeated,  pay- 
ing no  attention,  "we  want  to  be  married 
at  once.  Will  you  help  me  ?" 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE         8'I 

"That  depends."  The  sprightly  young 
Irishman  disengaged  himself  and  put  his 
hands  in  his  pockets.  "If  you  want  a 
sample,  I'm  your  lad." 

"Sample,  what  does  he  mean?"  Elinor 
asked  Julia  despairingly. 

"I  mean,  if  you  want  to  take  a  chance 

with  me  first "  he  looked  meaningly  at 

the  bed. 

"Oh,  dry  up,  Dennis,  can't  you  see  she's 
in  earnest?"  Juley's  tone  made  an  im- 
pression; his  face  changed  and  he  waited. 

"Dennis,  will  you  go,  now — before  sup- 
per— and  find  out  where  we  can  get 
married  to-morrow  and  what's  got  to  be 
done  ?  In  fact,  will  you  play  brother  and 
see  me  through?" 

Elinor  again  put  her  hand  on  his 
shoulder,  her  voice  was  full  of  emotion. 
She  was  in  earnest  now;  his  help  might 
be  indispensable  and  she  put  all  the  dra- 
matic quality  she  could  command  into  her 
expression.  For  a  second  the  Irishman 
looked  at  her  admiringly  without  speak- 
ing. Of  a  sudden  he  threw  his  arms 
round  her  and,  placing  his  hands  below  the 
small  of  her  back,  pressed  her  close  to  him, 
released  her  and  seized  his  hat.  "I  will," 
he  said,  and  bolted  out  of  the 


82         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

room.  Elinor  turned  sharply  to  her 
friend. 

"Watch  him  out,"  she  exclaimed;  "see 
he  don't  meet  Kurt — quick." 

The  little  woman  swiftly  followed  her 
husband  down  the  passage  and  Elinor 
went  on  with  her  toilet. 

She  found  Richard  downstairs  waiting 
for  her.  She  noticed  that,  like  herself,  he 
had  the  knack  of  making  a  new  appearance 
by  the  substitution  of  one  or  two  details 
of  dress  for  others.  Some  people  did  not 
attach  importance  to  such  matters;  she 
did. 

"I  like  that  Irish  chap,  he's  an  awfully 
good  sort." 

"Yes,  they  are  real  friends  of  mine. 
What  I  like  about  them  is  their  loyalty; 
they'd  do  anything  for  me." 

"She  is  tiny,  isn't  she?  She's  got  a 
funny  little  face,  almost  ugly,  but  she's  so 
sharp  that  it  doesn't  matter." 

As  he  spoke  Dennis  and  Julie  appeared 
in  the  distance,  the  former  waving  a  paper. 
Luckily  Richard  had  his  back  to  them,  and 
Elinor,  interposing  herself  skilfully,  seized 
it  from  his  hand. 

"Not  a  word  now,  Den,"  she  whispered, 
holding  her  finger  to  her  mouth. 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE          83 

The  Irishman  threw  himself  into  a 
chair  beside  Richard.  "I've  got  a  thirst 
I  wouldn't  sell.  By  St.  Patrick,  what  I've 
done  this  evening's  worth  a  bottle  of 
wine."  To  which  hint  Richard  responded 
by  ordering  a  bottle  of  champagne  to  be 
put  on  ice  as  soon  as  they  took  their  seats 
at  the  supper-table. 

Pleased  though  Elinor  was  at  Richard's 
ready  liberality,  she  glanced  apprehen- 
sively at  Julia.  If  Dennis's  tongue  be- 
came much  looser  he  might  utter  some 
indiscretion  that  would  wreck  everything 
even  at  this  eleventh  hour.  It  was 
nervous  work  getting  through  the  meal; 
she  had  to  listen  to  every  word,  be  con- 
stantly alert,  ready  at  the  first  sign  of 
danger  to  take  whatever  measure  was 
necessary.  There  were  moments  of  men- 
ace. When  Dennis  lifted  his  glass  and 
drank  "success  to  crime  including  the 
sacrament  of  marriage,"  she  shot  an  ap- 
prehensive glance  at  Richard.  He  was 
talking  very  little,  his  glass  stood  beside 
his  plate  almost  untouched.  He  had 
ordered  coffee  and  liqueurs  to  be 
brought  to  the  table,  Dennis  had 
quieted  down  and  conversation  was 
languishing.  But  hardly  had  the  Irish- 


84         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

man  tossed  off  his  glass  of  brandy 
than  he  leant  across  the  table  and 
seizing  Richard's,  swallowed  that  as  well. 
Banging  down  the  empty  glass  with  such 
force  as  to  smash  the  base  of  it,  he  pointed 
his  finger  at  Richard  and  remarked:  "Not 
to-night,  my  lad.  Brandy  is  a  highly  ex- 
citing stimulant  suitable  at  this  time  of 
night  for  married  men  only" — with  a  huge 
wink  at  Elinor,  "you  might  get  loose  and 
do  some  damage  before  the  curtain  goes 
up,  and  I'm  here  to  see  all's  square  till  the 
knot's  tied  to-morrow.  Isn't  that  so, 
Nell?" 

There  was  an  awkward  pause.  Elinor's 
eyes  were  on  Richard,  what  could  he  think 
now?  Could  his  innocence  survive  the 
shock  of  this  last  performance?  She 
cursed  herself  for  bringing  Dennis  into 
her  counsels,  she  had  been  crazy  to  do  it. 
And  yet  from  Richard's  appearance  he 
might  even  not  have  heard.  There  was 
only  one  thing  to  do.  Signing  to  him, 
she  rose  from  the  table  and  they  walked 
out  of  the  room  together. 

iii 

"I  am  so  sorry  Dennis  behaved  like 
that,"  she  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm;  they 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE          8  <J 

were  standing  near  the  entrance  to  the 
hotel,  the  door  open  to  the  evening  air. 

"I  really  didn't  catch  what  he  said,  I 
was  rather  absent-minded  at  supper,  I'm 
afraid.  I've  been  thinking,  there's  some- 
thing I  must  say  to  you;  let's  go  out  into 
the  fresh  air." 

Fear  laid  its  cold  hand  on  Elinor's 
heart.  His  voice  sounded  distant,  as  she 
had  not  yet  heard  it.  What  was  he  going 
to  say?  Whatever  it  was,  his  mind  was 
made  up.  She  knew  that  intuitively,  the 
boyish  look  had  died  out  of  his  face,  his 
mouth  was  tightly  closed.  Yes,  his  mind 
was  made  up,  she  would  never  be  able  to 
change  it  now.  But  to  what?  Some- 
where between  her  breast  and  her  stomach 
she  felt  a  spasm  which  was  physical 
anguish,  the  anguish  of  suspense.  She 
tried  to  choke  the  horrid  sensation  down. 

They  strolled  slowly  by  the  side  of  the 
channel.  Its  waters  raced  here  into 
rapids,  across  which  a  light  suspension 
bridge  swung  its  fragile  length  to  the 
Canadian  shore  opposite.  Richard  guided 
her  to  it.  Half-way  across  he  stopped 
and  let  her  arm  fall,  turning  as  he  did  so 
and  gazing  over  the  parapet  at  the  turbu- 
lent stream  below.  It  was  a  clear  moon- 


86         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

light  night  and  very  still.  His  face 
looked  deadly  pale,  was  that  only  the  effect 
of  the  moonrays?  His  silence,  as  he 
stood  there,  leaning  over  the  bridge,  look- 
ing at  the  water,  frightened  her.  What 
was  he  thinking?  What  was  he  going  to 
say?  Suddenly  he  turned  round  again  and 
faced  her.  He  seemed  to  be  making  an 
effort  to  master  himself,  to  fight  some- 
thing down.  For  yet  more  instants  he 
kept  his  eyes  on  her  without  speaking. 
She  felt  herself  shrinking  from  his  eyes. 
If  only  the  moon  weren't  so  bright! 

"Elinor,  you  are  going  to  be  my  wife, 
that  is  settled.  I  have  given  you  my 
word,  there  can  be  no  going  back  on  it. 
But  I  tell  you  straight,  I  must  tell  you, 
that  I  know  it  is  an  awful  mistake."  He 
paused.  Did  he  expect  her  to  speak? 
No,  for  when  she  began  to  try  and  stam- 
mer something,  he  held  up  his  hand.  "If 
I  can  get  someone  to  marry  us  to-morrow, 
I  shall  do  so.  I  know  I'm  too  young  to 
marry,  I'm  not  ready  for  it.  I  want  to 
say  this  to  you  now  so  that  in  the  future, 
if  you  regret  it,  I  can  never  feel  I  didn't 
warn  you.  But  I'm  going  to  do  my  best 
and  I  shall  stand  by  you  through  thick  and 
thin  if  you  back  me  up.  I  hope  all  will 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE         87 

come  right  in  the  end.  We  shall  have 
to  separate  at  once  afterwards,  of  course. 
If  my  people  knew  I  had  got  married  like 
this  without  a  word  to  them,  they'd  never 
forgive  me.  We  may  have  to  live  apart 
for  some  time.  I  may  even  have  to  go  to 
England  without  you.  But  I'll  stick  to 
you  as  long  as  you  stick  to  me."  Again 
he  paused.  Ought  she  to  speak?  "That's 
about  all,  I  think,  except — I'd  like  to 
marry  you  under  the  British  flag."  He 
pointed  to  the  far  shore.  "It's  only  over 
there,  and — I  should  feel  I  was  doing  the 
right  thing  if  we  were  married  in  church. 
I'm — I'm  not  religious,  you  know,  but  it's 
the  decent  thing,  I've  been  brought  up  to 
it  and  I  don't  trust  the  American  marriage 
laws.  I  mean  you  to  be  my  wife  properly. 
I've  finished  now." 

He  turned  round  and  leant  over  the 
bridge  again. 

That  helped  her,  the  scrutiny  of  his 
eyes  was  unbearable.  While  he  looked  at 
her  she  could  not  think,  she  could  not  even 
realise  her  immense,  her  overwhelming 
relief.  He  was  going  to  marry  her  as 
soon  as  he  could,  of  his  own  accord,  with- 
out her  even  having  to  press  him.  What 
had  made  him  change  like  that?  She  was 


88         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

safe,  everything  was  all  right  now,  to-mor- 
row or  the  next  day  she  would  be  his  wife, 
Mrs.  Richard  Kurt,  daughter-in-law  of  his 
father  and  mother  in  London.  She  must 
say  something  now,  how  was  she  to  put  it? 
He  turned  towards  her  again  and  this  time 
he  put  his  arm  round  her,  and  she,  throw- 
ing back  her  head  under  the  moon,  lifted 
her  face  towards  his,  lifted  her  lovely  face 
with  its  perfect  shaped  nose,  with  its  great 
moist  eyes  under  their  heavy  lids,  with  its 
lips  parted  to  show  the  glistening  teeth, 

with  its  lips  parted,  inviting  his f 

But  his  did  not  meet  them.  Instead  he 
bent  his  head  and  kissed  her  just  above  her 
eyebrow,  as  a  brother  might.  Had  he  no 
sense  of  romance?  She  had  risen  to  the 
occasion  so  beautifully. 

He  offered  her  his  arm  quietly.  "Now 
I  think  we'd  better  go  back  as  I  want  that 
Irish  chap  to  help  me  see  to  things." 

Elinor  brought  him  to  a  halt. 

"Richard,  will  you  do  me  a  favour? 
Please  don't  ask  the  O'Haras  to  help  you. 
Make  the  arrangements  yourself.  You 
don't  need  him  and — I'd  much  rather  they 
weren't  mixed  up  in  our  affairs  any  more 

than  they  have  to  be.  You  see "  she 

noticed  that  he  was  looking  curiously  at 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE          89 

her,  "the  only  point  was  that  they  were 
here  and  could  chaperone  me.  I  should 
have  preferred  our  being  alone,  much  pre- 
ferred it." 

"But  they  are  great  friends  of  yours?" 

What  was  that  odd  undertone  in  his 
voice?  "Perhaps  I've  made  you  think 
they're  greater  friends  than  they  really 
are." 

"But  you  trust  them,  don't  you?" 

"Yes,  I  trust  them,  of  course."  How 
was  she  to  get  out  of  this  creditably? 
"Richard!"  she  put  her  hand  on  his  arm 
and  looked  into  his  face  "this  surely  is  our 
affair,  I  feel  I  want  you  to  do  it  all,  it  will 
make  me  happier ." 

"But  you'll  let  them  come  and  see  the 
knot  tied,  won't  you?" 

Why  did  he  use  that  expression  of 
Dennis's?  Had  he  heard?  Was  he 
deeper  than  she  supposed?  And  if  he 
was,  if  he  knew  or  suspected,  how  could 
he  be  ready  to  marry  her  just  the  same? 
Anyway  it  was  settled,  she  had  nothing  to 
fear.  There  was  nothing  to  lose  her  self- 
possession  about. 

"Yes,  of  course,  they  can  come.  But 
Dennis  sometimes  says  such — such  vulgar 
things,  and  this  evening  I  feel  I  can't  bear 


90         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

any  more;  it's  all  a  great  strain  on  me.  I 
can  hardly  realise  even  now  that  this  may 
be  my  last  evening  as  a  girl.  You  under- 
stand, dear,  don't  you?" 

He  answered  gently:  "Yes,  I  under- 
stand. Of  course  it  shall  be  as  you  like. 
You  might  tell  me,  though,  what  it  is  ex- 
actly you  want  me  to  do." 

Why  did  his  eyes  sometimes  make  her 
feel  so  uncomfortable  ?  She  withdrew  her 
own  as  she  answered: 

"I  should  like  you  to  leave  me  with 
Julia  and  go  off  to  bed.  If  there's  any- 
thing Dennis  can  tell  me  about  the — the 
formalities — I'll  send  word  to  you.  If 
not,  we  can  start  in  the  morning  early  and 
find  out" 

He  listened  gravely  and  attentively.  "I 
will  do  as  you  wish." 

Once  more  he  offered  her  his  arm. 

iv 

To  Elinor's  disgust,  as  they  entered  the 
hotel,  Dennis  was  holding  forth  to  two 
men,  who  were  roaring  with  laughter  at 
something  he  was  telling  them.  As  soon 
as  she  and  Richard  came  into  view,  all  of 
them  stopped  laughing  and  stared.  Ap- 
parently Richard  had  not  noticed  them  and 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE         91 

she  guided  him  to  the  opposite  end  of  the 
vestibule  where  Julia  was  sitting. 

The  little  woman  held  up  her  finger. 
"Oh,  you  two!  I've  been  looking  all 
around  the  hotel  for  you." 

Elinor  cut  her  short.  "Richard  is  tired 
and  is  going  to  bed." 

Julia  gazed  at  him  through  her  pince- 
nez,  with  a  disappointed  expression.  "I 
mustn't  ask  any  questions,  must  I?  But 
I  do  so  want  to  know  what  you've  decided. 
I  love  my  Nell,  Mr.  Kurt." 

"We're  going  to  be  married  to-morrow 
if  I  can  arrange  it,"  he  answered,  in  a  low 
tone. 

"Oh,  I  am  glad.  You're  a  lovely 
couple — and  these  runaway  marriages  are 
so  romantic ." 

Richard's  expression  changed.  "We 
want  to  be  married  quietly,  that's  all. 
And  it  must  be  kept  secret  till  I've  had 
time  to  tell  my  family." 

Mrs.  O'Hara  grinned  sympathetically 
and  joyously.  "Of  course  it  must.  We 
know  that — don't  we,  Nell?" 

Bidding  them  both  good-night,  he 
walked  through  the  hall  to  the  stairs,  look- 
ing straight  before  him. 

The    sight    of    O'Hara    had    revived 


92         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

Elinor's  anger.  "I  never  could  have 
thought  Den  would  have  behaved  so  mean. 
It's  not  his  fault  if  I'm  not  let  down. 
Only  a  man  as  much  in  love  as  Richard 
would  put  up  with  such  talk  as  he  gave  us 
this  evening." 

Julia  looked  distressed.  "He  don't 
mean  anything  by  it,"  she  remarked,  in  a 
soothing  tone. 

"Don't  mean  anything!  He  as  good 
as  told  my  fiance  I'd  engaged  him  to  rig 
up  my  marriage — with  his  disgusting  ex- 
pressions about  'seeing  things  square'  and 
'getting  the  knot  tied.'  '  Elinor  flashed 
her  eyes  at  her  friend,  who  recoiled  under 
the  withering  scorn  of  her  voice.  "A  fat 
lot  of  good  he's  been  to  me.  Look  at  him 
now.  I'll  bet  he's  giving  us  away  to  those 
loathsome  drummers  he's  tagged  on  to. 
D'you  realise  what  I've  been  through  all 
this  time,  what  I'm  going  through  now?" 

Julia  cast  despairing  eyes  at  her  hus- 
band. "What  ken  I  do,  Nell  ?"  she  asked. 

"Go  over  there  and  tell  that  blabgut  of 
a  husband  of  yours  to  quit  the  trash  he's 
with  and  come  upstairs  with  you." 
Elinor  marched  furiously  off  and  up  the 
stairs  to  her  room. 

Five  minutes  later  there  was  a  knock  on 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE         93 

her  door.  Julie  entered  the  room,  fol- 
lowed by  her  husband. 

"Say,  Nell,"  Dennis  went  forward  and 
stood  in  front  of  Elinor,  "don't  be  so 
mad.  There's  no  harm  done." 

"No  harm  done!  How  do  you  know? 
Instead  of  being  a  help,  you've  done  all 
you  could  to  down  me.  Nice  friend  you 
are."  She  burst  into  tears  and  little  Julia 
ran  to  her  and  put  her  arms  round  her 
waist. 

"You've  acted  the  fool,  Den,  you 
always  do  when  you're  full,"  she  cried, 
kissing  Elinor  on  the  neck,  which  was  as 
high  as  she  could  reach. 

O'Hara  sat  down  on  the  bed,  blew  his 
nose  loudly,  folded  his  arms  and  stared  at 
them  with  a  blank  expression.  "When 
you  two  have  finished,  I'll  begin." 

Elinor  continued  to  sob  and  Julia  to 
console,  without  noticing  him. 

"What  have  I  done  anyway?  Nell 
telephones  she  and  her  beau  are  coming 
to  St.  Mary's  and  wants  us  to  stay  over. 
We  were  going  away  but  we  waited  to 
please  her.  She  sends  me  to  find  out  how 
she's  to  get  married.  As  soon  as  I  get 
back  with  the  information  she  behaves  as 
though  she  or  both  of  us  were  crazy. 


94         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

We  have  supper,  she  and  her  young  duck 
disappear.  The  next  thing  I'm  told  is 
that  I'm  a  doggorned  fool  and  a  blabgut 
and  that  I've  given  the  show  away." 

Elinor  was  still  inconsolable  and  Julia 
got  her  into  a  chair  and  stood  beside  her. 
"Why  don't  you  tell  her  what  you've 
done,  Dennis,  instead  of  sitting  there 
talking?  Where's  the  paper?" 

"How  do  I  know  she  wants,  it?  What 
do  I  know  about  anything?" 

The  words  were  said  in  a  mock  despair- 
ing tone  but  his  expression  showed  that 
he  wanted  to  put  matters  right.  He  took 
a  folded  paper  out  of  his  pocket  and 
spread  it  out  on  the  bed. 

"Come,  Nell,  dear.  Do,  look  at  it," 
Julia  urged  coaxingly. 

Holding  her  handkerchief  to  her  face, 
Elinor  moved  slowly  to  the  bed-side.  It 
was  a  printed  form  which  stated  that,  in 
lieu  of  banns,  the  marriage  of  the  persons 
named  thereon,  for  which  blank  spaces 
were  provided,  could  be  duly  and  legally 
solemnised  in  St.  Luke's  Church,  St. 
Mary's,  District  of  Algoma,  by  the  in- 
cumbent of  that  benefice,  on  payment  of 
seven  dollars  and  twenty-five  cents,  plus  a 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE         95 

five-dollar  stamp  for  the  special  licence. 

This  was,  after  all,  exactly  the  informa- 
tion she  wanted,  and  she  could  forgive 
him  now. 

"He  likes  you,  Den."  She  spoke  a 
little  tearfully  still.  "He  was  going  to 
ask  you  to  help  him,  but  I  had  to  talk  it 
over  with  you  first.  He  wants  to  marry 
me  at  the  earliest  possible  moment." 

Dennis  jumped  up,  put  his  arm  round 
her  neck  and  kissed  her.  "Give  me  a 
kiss,  Nell,  I've  always  told  you  you  were 
a  peach."  He  kissed  her  again.  "Right- 
eousness and  peace  have  kissed  each  other 
but,  as  I  was  going  to  say,  there's  a  mouse 
of  a  cleric  who's  making  good  money  out 
of  running  his  church  as  a  registry  office. 
All  your  boy's  got  to  do  is  to  go  to  the 
parsonage,  pay  that  twelve  dollars  and  fix 
the  time  for  the  ceremony." 

The  road  was  clear  but  she  must  still 
be  careful.  "Dennis,  you'll  say  nothing 
to  him  about  all  this?" 

"For  sure  I  won't." 

"If  he  should  ask  you,  say  you  know 
someone  who  got  married  there.  There's 
no  call  to  say  more.  Now,  will  you  get 
me  some  paper  and  envelopes?" 


96         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

He  left  the  room. 

"It's  all  right  now,  Juley,  but  it 
mightn't  have  been.  I  want  to  have  a 
talk  when  you've  got  Dennis  to  bed." 

"That  won't  be  before  the  bar's 
closed." 

He  came  back  with  the  paper  and 
envelopes  and  Elinor  was  left  alone.  She 
sat  on  the  bed  and  using  the  back  of  her 
hand-mirror  for  a  writing-pad  started  a 
note. 

"Richard   my  dearest." 

She  stopped  and  sucked  her  pencil. 
Couldn't  she  improve  on  that?  She  be- 
gan on  another  sheet. 

"Richard  my  husband-to-be." 

That  was  better!  But  was  it,  though? 
She  wrote  one  after  another : 

"My  own  Richard." 

"My  dearest  Richard." 

"Richard  my  dearest." 

"Richard  my  husband-to-be." 

"Richard  my  dear  one." 

"Richard  my  beloved." 

Each  had  its  special  significance.  She 
read  them  over,  considering  carefully. 
Now  she'd  got  it! 

"Richard,  my  all  but  husband."  That 
was  at  once  original,  appealing  and  true. 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE         97 

"Richard  my  all  but  Husband, — It  can, 
it  shall  be,  as  you  wish.  We  will  be  mar- 
ried under  the  British  flag  and  in  a  Brit- 
ish church.  I  know  nothing  about  your 
marriage  laws  but  I  trust  you  utterly. 
Dennis  knows  of  a  dear  little  church  on 
the  other  side;  it's  called  St.  Luke's,  some 
friends  of  his  were  married  there.  There 
is  no  difficulty,  only  a  small  fee  to  -pay.  I 
shall  be  waiting  for  you,  ready  dressed,  at 
eight.  Knock  at  my  door  and  we'll  go 
down  together. 

"I  can 't  write  what  I  feel,  my  heart  is 
too  full.  I  am  thinking,  thinking  of  all 
you  mean  to  me,  of  our  future.  You 
know  how  deep  my  love  for  you  is;  I've 
proved  that.  I  pray  God  I  may  make 
you  as  good  a  'wife  as  you  deserve.  Your 

<(Elinor." 

She  read  it  over.  It  was  wonderful 
how  naturally  the  words  came  when  one 
was  deeply  moved.  She  put  the  note  in 
its  envelope,  addressed  it  and  laid  it  on 
the  dressing-table.  It  was  only  half-past 
ten  and  Julia  would  be  there  in  a  few  min- 
utes, the  bars  closed  early  in  Wisconsin. 
She  began  undressing,  thinking  hard. 
There  would  be  plenty  to  talk  over  with 


98         ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

Julia;  she  was  pretty  cute.  She  laid  her 
skirt  and  blouse  carefully  on  a  chair  and 
took  down  her  hair.  It  wasn't  very  long 
but  it  was  thick,  and  black  as  jet.  She 
combed  it  out  and  twisted  it,  holding  it  be- 
side her  face.  She  had  much  rather  have 
been  fair  but  how  her  hair  showed  up  her 
skin  and  the  natural  colour  in  her  cheeks; 
her  skin  was  as  smooth  as  velvet,  the 
colour  of  rich  cream.  She  sat  down  and 
examined  herself  with  the  hand  mirror. 
Her  nose  certainly  was  beautiful,  so  were 
her  ears,  like  little  shells  close  against  her 
head.  It  was  a  pity  her  hair  was  so  stiff, 
it  was  difficult  to  get  it  to  go  properly  in 
the  nape  of  the  neck,  those  short  hairs 
were  so  tiresome  and  straight,  and  curling 
them  made  them  worse.  She  laid  the 
mirror  down,  undid  her  corset,  threw  it 
on  the  bed,  sat  in  her  chemise  only  and 
took  the  mirror  in  her  hand  again.  The 
line  of  her  neck  and  shoulders  was  per- 
fect. She  let  her  chemise  drop  and  slip- 
ped on  her  lacy  nightdress,  open  low  in 
front,  with  blue  ribbons  to  fasten  it,  which 
she  tied  with  quick  skill  into  impeccable 
bows,  flattening  out  the  ends. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door. 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE          99 

Elinor  slipped  into  bed  as  Julia  entered 
the  room. 

"I've  just  put  Den  to  bed.  He's  as 
full  as  he  ever  can  be." 

"Juley,  I've  been  doing  some  thinking, 
and  I  want  you  to  listen  and  talk  to  Den 
to-morrow  when  he's  sober.  First, 
though,  take  this  note  to  Richard's  room 
and  hand  it  to  him  with  my  love.  Say 
there's  no  answer." 

Julia  sped  off  and  in  a  moment  was 
back. 

"He  hadn't  started  to  undress.  He 
was  writing.  I  saw  the  paper  covered 
with  writing;  stacks  of  it." 

"Um,  I  wonder  who  he's  writing  to." 

"Why?     D'you  think  it  matters?" 

Elinor  was  pondering.  "Don't  know 
that  it  does  much — really.  But,  Juley, 
you  know  pretty  well  now  how  things  are, 
don't  you?" 

"In  a  way  I  do,  but  not  exactly." 

"Well,  listen.  He  specially  doesn't 
want  the  marriage  known;  he's  scared  of 
his  parents.  Seems  he  and  his  father 
don't  get  on  any  too  well.  But  it's  his 
mother  he  thinks  about  chiefly." 

Julia  gazed  at  her  through  her  glasses 


100      ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

with    an   alert   expression   in   her  bright 
eyes.     "What  is  he  going  to  do?" 

"He  says  he'll  go  straight  back  to  his 
work  at  Cliftonburg  and  act  as  though 
nothing  had  happened  till  his  uncle  comes 
back;  seems  he's  good  friends  with  his 
uncle." 

"What  then?" 

"Then  he'd  tell  his  uncle  he's  engaged. 
'He  wouldn't  dare  say  married.  After 
that  he  didn't  seem  to  know  what  would 
happen ." 

"Why,  Nell,"  Julia  jumped  up  and 
stood  in  front  of  the  bed  with  clasped 
hands,  "that  won't  do.  You  might  go  on 
for  years  like  that.  Now  look  ahere. 
You  get  married  and  leave  the  rest  to 
Dennis  and  me." 

"Leave  what  rest?  Why  don't  you 
say?" 

Julia  sat  down  on  the  bed  again  and  put 
her  hand  affectionately  on  Elinor's  arm 
under  the  short  lace-trimmed  sleeve. 

"  'Cos  I'm  wanting  to  save  you  know- 
ing anything.  That  marriage  can't  be 
kept  secret,  that's  all  there  is  about 
it." 

Elinor  interrupted.  "Juley!  It's  the 
one  thing  he  wants." 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE       IOI 

"Can't  help  that.  We've  got  to  think 
of  you." 

"But  I've  promised.  I  said  I  could 
trust  you  and  Dennis." 

"Well,  an'  I  guess  you  can.  See  here, 
Nell,  you  just  go  on  promising,  that  don't 
cost  anything.  He'll  be  as  pleased  as 
you  will  before  he's  done,  anyway.  And 
if  you  was  to  do  as  he  wants,  you'd  likely 

find  yourself  left  so  badly  that  you'd 

But  it's  no  use  talking  about  it.  What  I 
want  to  know  is,  has  he  got  a  roll  to  go  on 
with?" 

"I  don't  know  what  he's  got,  not  much 
anyway.  But  that  don't  matter.  The 
old  man  can  raise  a  few  hundred  dollars 
to  get  us  to  London." 

"That's  talking.  You'll  fix  the  old 
folk  when  you  get  there.  Trust  you  for 
that.  Say,  Nell,  what's  he  doing  now?" 

"Got  some  job  on  his  uncle's  railroad  in 
Cliftonburg,  about  a  hundred  dollars  a 
month,  I  guess,  from  what  he  said.  He 
says  he  can  easily  get  two  hundred  in  a 
short  while.  His  father  wants  him  to 
work.  Later  on  he's  got  to  go  into  his 
father's  business,  banking,  in  London. 
Juley,  they're  rolling  in  money,  millions 
of  it."  Julia's  eyes  glistened  responsively. 


102       ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

"And  he's  been  in  Canada  with  Sir  Will- 
iam Leicester  Kartwright.  He  married 
Isolde  Allones,  who's  in  Town  Topics 
every  week.  Sir  William  Kartwright's 
one  of  the  way  ups  in  London.  Seems  he 
and  Richard's  father  formed  a  big  com- 
pany for  farming  and  ranching  in  Can- 
ada and  Richard  was  out  there  as  his  pri- 
vate secretary.  The  concern  went  wrong 
but  it  doesn't  worry  his  father,  though  he 
must  have  lost  stacks  in  it.  Richard's 
uncle's  a  partner  with  a  baron  who's  an- 
other big  banker,  and  they  own  the  C.  W. 
&  M.  Railway  system.  I  tell  you,  Juley, 
Richard  Kurt's  away  up  in  G.  I'll  take 
chances  about  what  he's  got  now.  There'll 
be  plenty  of  good  English  money  and 
everything  else  later  on." 

By  this  time  Elinor  had  worked  both 
herself  and  her  friend  up  to  an  exhilarat- 
ing state  of  excitement,  and  Julia  bent 
over  her  and  kissed  her  with  enthusiasm. 

"Good  for  you,  Nell,"  she  exclaimed, 
"now,  I'll  get  back  to  Den.  When's  the 
wedding  to  be?" 

"He's  to  call  for  me  here  at  my  room 
at  eight.  We'll  have  breakfast  and  go 
to  the  church  straight  away.  You  wait 
here  till  we  come  back." 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE       103 

"Right,  Nell."  She  kissed  her  good- 
night. "Sweet  dreams,  my  dear,  and 
don't  worry." 


When  Richard  knocked  on  .Elinor's 
door  at  the  appointed  hour  next  morning, 
he  had  thrown  off  his  seriousness  of  the 
night  before  and  appeared  to  be  in  buoy- 
ant spirits.  She  was  not  quite  sure  that 
she  altogether  liked  his  new  mood.  She 
had  prepared  herself  to  be  grave  if  not 
solemn  as  the  momentous  hour  ap- 
proached. She  even  alluded  to  her  sense 
of  its  gravity  at  breakfast,  for  which  he 
had,  to  her  mind,  an  unreasonable  appetite 
and  took  longer  over  than  in  the  circum- 
stances was  altogether  becoming. 

On  their  way  across  the  suspension 
bridge  he  stopped  at  the  spot  where  the 
scene  of  the  previous  evening  had  taken 
place,  hung  over  the  parapet  and,  look- 
ing at  the  water,  said:  "I  must  shoot 
those  rapids  this  afternoon."  Imagine 
thinking  of  such  a  thing  when  one  was  go- 
ing to  be  married  in  perhaps  an  hour! 

They  had  seen  the  minister  get  up  from 
his  breakfast  through  the  open  window  as 
they  approached  the  house.  They  were 


104       ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

ushered  into  the  parlour  by  an  elderly 
woman,  whose  back  was  no  sooner  turned 
than  Richard  made  allusions  to  her  false 
hair.  His  behaviour  was  worse  when  the 
clergyman  entered  the  room  in  a  dignified 
manner,  holding  a  prayer-book.  Opening 
it  at  the  page  where  lay  a  fringed  canvas 
marker  embroidered  with  a  cross,  the  min- 
ister took  out  a  card,  at  which  Richard 
barely  glanced  before  passing  it  to  her. 
While  she  was  reading  the  inscription 


THE  REV.   C.   HAWKE, 

Incumbent, 

ST.  LUKE'S  VICARAGE, 
ST.  MARY'S, 
ONTARIO 


she  heard  him  say:  "I  expect  you  know 
we've  come  to  get  married.  How  soon 
can  we  get  it  over  and  how  much  does  it 
cost?" 

Elinor  considered  such  a  way  of  intro- 
ducing the  object  of  their  visit  most  un- 
dignified, even  vulgar,  and  she  was  sur- 
prised that  the  minister  smiled  so  pleas- 
antly while  he  opened  the  prayer-book 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE        105 

near  the  cover  and  took  out  another  and 
larger  card.  This  one  Richard  examined 
carefully.  "That's  ,all  right,"  he  said, 
drawing  a  bundle  of  notes  from  his  pocket 
and  counting  them  on  to  the  top  of  the 
prayer-book.  "Five,  ten,  twenty.  Let's 
see,  how  much  was  it,  including  the 
stamp?"  He  pulled  the  card  out  of  his 
pocket.  "Ah,  I  see.  We'll  call  it  a 
round  twenty,  shall  we?" 

Mr.    Hawke    continued    to    smile. 

"Very  kind,  I'm  sure,  Mr .  What 

did  I  understand  to  be  your  name?" 

"Richard  Kurt  and  this  is  Miss  Elinor 
Colhouse.  We  might  as  well  fill  in  the 
forms  now,  if  it's  all  the  same  to  you." 

Mr.  Hawke  rubbed  his  hands  softly. 
"I  can  marry  you  now  if  you  like;  the 
church  is  quite  close.  Would  you  like  me 
to  see  to  it  at  once?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Hawke,  I  should." 

"Excuse  me  then,  for  a  moment." 

He  left  the  door  ajar.  Elinor  closed 
it  and  turned  to  Richard.  She  was 
feeling  very  sore.  "I  don't  know  why 
you  have  adopted  this  attitude." 

"What   attitude?" 

"You  know  perfectly  well  what  I  mean. 
I  think  it's  very  unkind.  No  girl  likes  a 


106       ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

joke  made  of  her  marriage.  And  your 
way  of  acting  and  talking  is  worse  than  a 
joke.  You  seem  to  want  to  hurt  my 
feelings." 

Just  then  Mr.  Hawke  returned  with 
some  papers,  a  pen  and  an  inkpot  in  his 
hands.  Elinor ,  passed  her  handkerchief 
over  her  eyes  and  at  the  clergyman's 
invitation  seated  herself  at  the  table  be- 
side Richard  to  fill  out  the  forms  spread 
before  them.  Once  more  Mr.  Hawke  re- 
turned to  the  prayer-book,  took  out  a 
third  card,  of  much  smaller  size,  and  re- 
marked to  Elinor,  with  a  benignant  look : 
"Marriage  lines,  the  most  important  of 
all  for  you,  young  lady,  but  I  can't  part 
with  it  yet — not  yet — but  very  soon." 
He  turned  to  Richard.  "We  can  proceed 
now  if  you  like." 

The  lady  who  had  shown  them  in  was 
awaiting  them  at  the  front  door  and  was 
now  introduced  as  Mrs.  Hawke.  "What 
a  lovely  day.  Blessed  is  the  bride  that 
the  sun  shines  on."  Her  smile  was  full 
of  admiration  and  Elinor  began  to  feel  on 
better  terms  with  herself. 

Richard  and  the  clergyman  were 
walking  in  front,  but  they  turned  round 
and  waited  for  the  ladies  to  come  up. 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE       107 

"I  say,  Elinor,  Mr.  Hawke  was 
speaking  about  witnesses  and  the  O'Haras 
came  into  my  head.  I'd  forgotten  them. 
I'll  run  and  fetch  them." 

She  hesitated  a  moment.  It  would  be 
a  mistake  to  offend  Dennis  and  Julia,  but 
she  wasn't  going  to  let  Richard  go  with- 
out her,  she  had  heard  of  brides  being  left 
at  the  church  before  now. 

"I'll  go  with  you;  they'll  like  it  better  if 
I  ask  them  myself." 

On  their  way  to  the  hotel  she  de- 
termined to  get  an  explanation  of  his  con- 
stant changes  of  mood,  and  obtained  an 
admission  that  he  had  been  "rather  bad 
form."  "But,"  he  added,  "I  know  that 
little  humbug  makes  a  living  out  of  this 
game.  You  ask  O'Hara." 

She  looked  sharply  up  at  him.  What 
did  he  know?  His  face  betrayed  noth- 
ing; he  was  impenetrable  sometimes. 

They  found  the  O'Haras  awaiting 
them. 

The  clergyman,  accompanied  by  Mrs. 
Hawke,  bustled  out  of  the  vestry  in  his 
surplice.  "I'm  quite  ready.  Would  your 
friend  like  to  act  as  best  man?" 

O'Hara  nodded. 


108      ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

"Please  give  him  the  ring,  Mr.  Kurt." 

"The  ring.  By  Jove,  I  never  thought 
of  that!"  Richard  looked  helplessly  at 
Elinor,  who  was  thinking  what  a  fool  she 
had  been  not  to  have  reminded  him  of  the 
necessary  symbol. 

Dennis  came   to  the  rescue. 

"I  guess  that's  happened  before  now, 
hasn't  it,  your  Reverence?" 

Mr.  Hawke  fumbled  under  his  much- 
crumpled  surplice  and  drew  out  a  silver 
ring  with  an  expression  in  his  face  like 
little  Jack  Horner  pulling  out  the  plum. 
Dennis  examined  it  solemnly. 

The  ceremony  over  and  the  register 
signed,  Elinor's  vigilant  eye  observed  Mr. 
Hawke  take  Dennis  and  Julia  aside.  She 
beckoned  to  the  latter,  who  whispered: 
"They're  bargaining  about  the  ring.  He 
asked  five  dollars  and  Den  says  it's  worth 
fifty  cents." 

Richard  had  overheard.  Slipping  a- 
cross  the  vestry  he  put  some  notes  in  the 
clergyman's  hand :  "I  beg  you  to  accept 
ten  dollars,  Mr.  Hawke.  The  ring  will  be 
a  souvenir  of  the  greatest  event  of  my  life 
and  I  shall  always  kefep  and  cherish  it." 

Elinor's  heart  leaped.  There  was  a 
gentleman  indeed,  a  real  English  gentle- 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE        109 

man;  she  took  his  hand  and  pressed  it 
silently. 

The  Hawkes  saw  the  four  of  them  out 
by  the  vestry  door. 

Elinor  was  in  front,  with  her  arm  in 
Richard's.  "Let  them  pass,"  she  whis- 
pered. There  was  so  much  she  wanted 
to  say,  but  she  found  no  suitable  words. 
She  was  actually  married  to  the  boy  beside 
her,  he  was  hers  now  by  right.  What 
ought  to  be  her  next  step? 

They  had  almost  reached  the  other  end 
of  the  bridge  when  he  broke  in  upon  her 
thoughts. 

"I  say,  Elinor,  I  must  shoot  those 
rapids  after  lunch." 

She  tried  not  to  show  she  was  put  about 
but  he  certainly  was  unaccountable. 

He  seemed  to  take  it  for  granted  that 
she  should  go  up  to  her  room  alone  and 
she  was  obliged  to  leave  him  while  Julia 
accompanied  her  upstairs.  She  would 
have, loved  to  unburden  herself  to  her 
friend,  who  plied  her  with  questions  as  to 
what  he  had  said  and  done,  but  how  could 
she  admit  to  her  that  he  had  literally  said 
nothing,  had  never  offered  even  to  kiss 


1 10       ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

her  and  that  the  one  thing  he.  wanted  to 
do  was  to  shoot  the  rapids? 

"Wasn't  he  sweet,  Juley?" 

"Sweet.  Anyone  can  see  how  happy  he 
is.  You  are  Ijucky,  Nell  deiar."  Julia 
kissed  her  warmly. 

This  was  balm  to  Elinor. 

The  preliminary  cocktails  gave  the 
ensuing  meal  a  good  send-off.  Dennis 
behaved  with  reasonable  decorum  and  to 
Elinor's  relief  no  allusions  were  made  to 
the  morning's  ceremony.  Richard's  spir- 
its were  maintained  but  his  manner  to- 
wards Julia  and  herself  was  identical. 
He  was  being  pleasant  all  round. 

When  they  arose  from  the  table,  he 
drew  her  to  the  corner  of  the  hall.  "I've 
looked  up  the  boats.  We  must  get  off  to- 
morrow at  nine." 

She  assented,  but  there  was  more  to 
come. 

"It  isn't  possible  to  go  on  here  like  this. 
You  mustn't  be  compromised.  I  must  get 
you  safe  to  Manitou  with  your  mother 
and  then  go  back  to  Cliftonburg." 

She  nodded. 

"I'm  so  glad  you  think  so;  everything 
depends  now  upon  keeping  it  dark.  I 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE        III 

wrote  a  long  letter  to  my  mother  last 
night,  but  I  thought  better  of  it.  Letters 
are  no  good.  I  shall  have  to  face  it  out 
when  the  time  comes.  But  there's  no 
hurry,  is  there?" 

"No,  there's  no  hurry,"  she  answered 
mechanically. 

"Your  agreeing  with  me  makes  every- 
thing easier.  Now,  let's  go  and  shoot 
the  rapids." 

VI 

It  was  quite  exciting  rushing  through 
the  boiling  water.  Jagged  rocks,  alter- 
nately exposed  and  overwhelmed,  marked 
the  narrow  channel  through  which  their 
canoe  must  pass.  The  two  Indians  stand- 
ing, one  at  the  bow,  the  other  at  the  stern, 
uttered  loud  shouts,  and  as  an  additional 
thrill  the  paddler  in  the  stern,  with  great 
dexterity,  dashed  about  a  glassful  of 
water  over  Richard's  back.  That  was 
all.  They  shot  into  the  calmer  current 
and  came  smoothly  to  shore  a  mile  lower 
down. 

Richard  paid  the  men  laughingly,  and 
said  to  her:  "That's  done;  rather  jolly, 
wasn't  it?" 

Further    on,    they    took    an    ordinary 


112       ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

rowing-boat  and  he  rowed  slowly  into  a 
backwater  full  of  rushes.  Here  and 
there  the  water  was  almost  stagnant  and 
covered  with  water-lilies.  Letting  the 
boat  glide  to  the  bank,  where  it  came  to 
rest,  he  shipped  his  oars  and  sat  down  by 
her  in  the  stern.  At  last!  He  put  his 
arm  behind  her  and  drew  her  towards 
him,  kissing  her  on  the  cheek  as  he  did 
so.  She  yielded  herself  freely  to  him, 
moving  her  face  so  that  their  lips  met,  and 
held  his  in  a  long  kiss.  Then  he  sat  back 
in  the  seat,  withdrew  his  arm  and  lighted 
a  cigarette.  For  a  moment  his  expression 
was  troubled,  he  inhaled  several  mouth- 
fuls  of  smoke,  then  began: 

"There's  a  lot  I  want  to  say,  Elinor." 

"Yes,  dear."  She  put  all  the  ex- 
pressiveness she  could  into  her  voice.  She 
wanted  him  to  talk. 

"We're  man  and  wife  now.  I  don't 
think  I  quite  know  how  it  has  come  to 
that,  somehow." 

The  remark  was  not  flattering,  was  not 
at  all  what  she  would  have  liked  him  to 
say  but  she  would  not  show  that  and  she 
made  no  comment. 

"But  there  it  is  and  I  think,  when  we 
are  able  to  be  married  properly  so  that 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE       113 

everyone  can  know  it,  it  will  be  all  right. 
As  it  is,  you  see,  really,  it's  not  a  marriage 
at  all" — he  looked  at  her  again — "not  in 
the  proper  way,  I  mean." 

What  was  he  driving  at?  What  did 
his  words  imply? 

"Of  course  it's  private,  if  you  mean 
that,"  she  answered. 

"No,  I  don't  mean  only  that.  I  mean 
we  can't  live  together  at  all,  we  mustn't. 
It  would  be  utterly  wrong  considering — 
considering  the  circumstances." 

She  recognised  the  lameness  of  his  con 
elusion  and  she  began  to  see  light.  He 
was  conveying  to  her  that  he  would  not 
claim  his  rights  as  a  husband.  If  he  felt 
so,  there  was  nothing  for  her  to  do;  this 
lack  of  ardour  was  humiliating  but  he 
would  soon  change  when  they  came  to- 
gether again.  Meanwhile  she  must  put 
something  into  his  head  it  was  important 
he  should  keep  there. 

She  took  his  hand  and  held  it  between 
hers. 

"I  understand  how  you  feel,  dear.  I'm 
sure  you're  right.  But  the  thought  of  our 
separation  is  very  hard  to  bear,  especially 
when  I  remember  what  we  have  been  to 
each  other." 


114      ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

He  threw  his  cigarette  into  the  water 
and  watched  it  soak  and  gradually  sink 
before  he  answered. 

"That  was  a  mad  moment,  Elinor.  I 
don't  forget  it  but  I'm  ashamed  of  it.  It 
was  all  against  my  ideas.  A  man  must 
lespect  his — I'd  rather  not  talk  about 
it.  But  it's  no  use  making  matters  worse, 
is  it?" 

What  exactly  did  he  mean  by  making 
matters  worse?  What  should  she  say? 
It  was  indispensable  that  he  should  real- 
ise the  sacrifice  she  had  made,  his  ob- 
ligation to  her. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean  by 
making  matters  worse.  I  regret  nothing 
as  I  know  you  love  me.  If  you  didn't,  I 
shouldn't  care  to  live"  into  her  voice 
came  the  note  of  pathos  "there  would  be 
nothing  to  live  for."  She  ended  with  a 
sigh,  looking  not  at  him  but  into  the 
water. 

"Elinor — dear.  Don't  talk  like  that. 
Of  course  I  love  you."  He  put  his  arms 
about  her  and  kissed  her  on  the  neck, 
the  face,  the  lips. 

She  sighed  again  softly.  "I  hope  so, 
Richard.  All  our  future  depends  on  that. 
'Man's  love  is  like  a  restless  wave,  ever 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE       11$ 

at  rise  and  fall;  the  only  love  a  woman 
craves,  it  must  be  all  in  all.'  '  She  quoted 
the  words  of  her  favourite  song  which 
always  moved  her.  And  Richard  showed 
that  the  apposite  quotation  was  effective, 
so  effective  that  it  provoked  renewed 
physical  illustration  of  the  enduring 
power  of  his  love.  The  shadows  length- 
ened on  the  water  and  they  turned  to- 
wards the  shore  when  the  mosquitoes  be- 
came disagreeably  inquisitive. 

Elinor's  memories  of  the  evening  that 
followed  were  not  amongst  those  she  ever 
wanted  to  preserve.  Dennis  O'Hara's 
silly  jokes  offended  her  sense  of  the  ap- 
propriate and  smeared  what  would  other- 
wise have  been  romantic  and  poignant 
hours  with  commonness.  She  bore  his 
behaviour  as  well  as  she  could,  encour- 
aging Richard  to  talk  about  his  home-life, 
hoping  that  when  the  Irishman  realised 
the  social  and  financial  eminence  of  her 
future  situation,  he  would  adopt  a  more 
respectful  attitude. 

"Where  are  your  parents  now?"  she 
asked. 

"I  really  don't  know  exactly.  The  last 
letter  I  got  from  mother,  she  was  in 


Il6      ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

Scotland  staying  with  a  Lady  Dodd,  old 
friends  of  ours.  She's  awfully  nice  but  I 
can't  stand  her  husband.  He  came  up 
to  me  once  when  I  was  riding  in  the  Row 
and  ask  me  what  omnibus  my  horse  came 
out  of." 

O'Hara   roared.     "Good   for   Dodd." 

"Dodd,  Dodd,  diddledy  Dodd, 
Riddledy,  diddledy  Dodd." 

Richard  joined  in  the  laughter  but 
Elinor  was  irritated  beyond  measure. 
Not  only  was  this  vulgar  facetiousness  in 
vile  taste  but  it  interrupted  an  interesting 
conversation.  When  the  laughter  sub- 
sided she  began  again,  slightly  changing 
the  subject.  "They  aren't  at  their  country 
place,  then?" 

"Oh  no.  Mother  dislikes  Elthorne 
now,  we've  given  it  up.  It's  too  close  to 
London:  nothing  but  brick  fields.  The 
Fitz-Alans  never  go  there  now  either. 
The  old  lord  hates  all  the  new  people.  I 
don't  blame  him." 

Richard's  accent  was  on  the  "I." 

She  didn't  understand.  "What  new 
people?" 

"Oh,  people  like  us  who  have  bought 
houses  about  there.  The  Fitz-Alans 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE       117 

have  been  there  since  the  Conquest,  you 
see." 

Elinor  was  concerned  about  the  Kurts 
being  new  people  and  in  consequence 
hated  by  Lord  Fitz-Alan.  She  would 
have  loved  to  know  more  about  that  but 
this  wasn't  the  moment.  Again  she 
changed  the  subject. 

"Wjhere   are   your   sisters   now?" 

"They  go  to  school  in  Paris  but  they'll 
be  joining  mother  at  Dieppe  for  the 
holidays." 

"Is   Dieppe  nice?" 

"I've  never  been  there.  The  girls  like 
it;  they  play  tennis  and  bathe,  and  mother 
drives  a  lot." 

This  was  a  subject  to  pursue.  Elinor 
glanced  at  the  O'Haras  as  she  asked: 
"What  does  she  drive?" 

"Oh,  she  sends  the  phaeton  and 
cobs  over  with  the  old  coachman.  She 
never  lets  him  drive  the  cobs;  his  hands 
are  bad  enough  with  the  carriage 
horses.  You  should  see  her  pi'tch 
into  him."  He  laughed  at  the  recollec- 
tion. 

O'Hara's  eyes  were  fixed  with  an 
amused  expression  on  Richard.  "What 
does  she  say?" 


II&      ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

"Tells  him  she'll  discharge  him  the 
next  time  he  jabs  at  their  mouths.  Some- 
times she  taps  him  on  the  back  with  her 
parasol." 

"I  guess  the  old  lady's  got  a  temper." 

Richard's  expression  changed;  his  eyes 
flashed. 

"  'Old  lady,'  what  do  you  mean?"  He 
rapped  the  words  out  angrily. 

O'Hara  was  taken  unprepared.  Noth- 
ing was  further  from  his  intention  than 
to  offend.  "No  harm  meant,  young  fel- 
ler." 

Richard  ceased  talking  from  then  on 
and  Elinor  made  no  further  attempts  to 
draw  him  out.  The  ebullition  had  sur- 
prised her.  He  had  never  shown  temper 
before  but  this  exhibition  proved  that  he 
had  got  one,  and  it  also  proved  that  the 
subject  of  his  mother  was  one  which  must 
be  approached  with  caution.  She  had 
taken  occasion  before  supper  to  impress 
upon  Julia  the  importance  of  restraining 
Dennis  from  indiscreet  allusions  when 
bed-time  came.  And  for  once  he  "acted 
reasonable."  Richard  bade  her  good- 
night at  her  door  as  casually  as  he  had 
Julia  just  before;  he  never  attempted 
even  to  look  into  the  room,  let  alone 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE       119 

enter  it,  but  walked  quietly  off  down  the 
corridor. 

She  undressed  with  mingled  feelings, 
which  became  emotional  when  she  began 
packing  so  as  to  be  ready  in  good  time 
for  their  early  morning  departure.  The 
sight  of  the  one  side  of  the  valise  still 
untouched,  with  the  straps  fastened  as 
when  she  had  so  carefully  placed  the 
contents  there,  brought  tears  to  her  eyes. 
"Poor  little  nightie,"  she  said  aloud,  as 
she  turned  back  the  partition  and  ex- 
tracted the  dainty  thing,  so  exquisitely  be- 
ribboned  and  scented.  She  laid  it  rever- 
ently on  the  bed  and  unwrapped  from 
their  fresh  tissue-paper  covering  the 
brand-new  silk  vest,  the  hand-embroidered 
chemise,  the  iridescent  silk  petticoat,  all 
the  bewitching  accessories  reserved  for  an 
occasion  that  might  have  been  and  was 
not.  How  could  she  help  being  unhappy 
at  the  sight  of  them?  It  was  so  hard 
to  be  deprived  of  everything  a  girl  longed 
for,  had  the  right  to  expect,  a  real  trous- 
seau, a  proper  wedding.  These  poor 
little  things  were  all  she  had  to  take  the 
place  of  so  much  she  could  never  have 
now.  And  there  they  were,  not  even 
seen!  Life  had  been  very  cruel.  And 


1 20       ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

yet?  She  was  standing  by  the  bedside 
refolding  them,  but  she  stopped,  put  her 
hand  to  her  forehead.  He  had  spoken  of 
another  marriage,  he  wanted  a  "proper" 
wedding  too.  Could  it  still  be  done? 
She  returned  to  her  packing,  hastily  re- 
placed the  things,  restrapped  the  parti- 
tion. Throwing  on  her  dressing-gown, 
she  ran  down  the  passage  and  called  Julia. 

"Juley,  come  into  my  room,  there's 
something  I  must  say  to  you." 

A  moment  later  the  little  woman,  her 
black  frizzy  hair  standing  up  like  cork- 
screws all  over  her  head,  flicked  into  the 
room  and  shut  the  door. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked.  "You  said 
not  to  come  to-night  and  I  wanted  to 
ever  so  much."  She  was  on  the  tiptoe 
of  curiosity.  Elinor  threw  herself  on  the 
bed. 

"Juley,  I've  been  thinking  we'd  better 
keep  it  secret  after  all,  for  a  time.  Just 
to  see  how  things  go — he  wants  to  have  a 
proper  wedding,  he  said  so  several  times." 

Julia  became  very  serious  and  lifted  her 
forefinger. 

"Now,  Nell,  it's  no  use  saying  that.  I 
know  too  much,  I'm  years  older  than  you 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE        121 

are.  You've  got  to  let  me  do  as  I  think. 
You  aren't  goin'  to  risk  your  whole  life- 
time for  a  wedding,  surely?" 

Elinor  was  impressed,  indeed  her  mind 
was  made  up  to  do  as  her  friend  advised, 
but  she  longed  to  be  comforted. 

"Just  to  think  I  shall  never  be  a  bride. 
It's  so  hard,  Juley,  it's  so  hard,"  and  she 
buried  her  face  in  the  pillow  while  Julia, 
deeply  touched,  comforted  her  for  all  she 
was  worth. 


CHAPTER  IV 


THE  O'Haras  had  seen  them  off  on  the 
boat  and  they  were  steaming  back  to  Man- 
itou.  Richard  was  in  sober  mood  and 
spoke  of  their  future  and  his  plans.  It 
was  agreed  that  Mrs.  Colhouse  should  be 
informed  of  the  marriage  as  soon  as  they 
arrived  and  that  he  would  leave  the  same 
evening  for  Cliftonburg.  The  great 
thing  was  to  return  to  his  work;  he  could 
do  a  lot  in  a  short  time  if  he  tried,  and 
now  it  was  worth  while.  It  was  a  cool 
cloudy  day  and  he  wrapped  her  up  and 
found  a  spot  on  the  lee-side  sheltered  from 
the  wind.  He  was  very  considerate  to 
her;  she  had  never  felt  so  fond  of  him. 
They  got  on  well  together  and  he  told  her 
many  things  she  wanted  to  know.  She 
was  getting  to  understand  everything. 
He  answered  all  her  questions  and  hardly 
asked  her  any.  The  more  she  heard,  the 
more  convinced  she  became  that  the 
future  would  be  rosy.  Not  that  he  said 
so.  On  the  contrary,  he  spoke  of  it  with 

122 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE        123 

apprehension,  warned  her  again  and  again 
to  be  prepared  for  anything.  His 
father  would  most  likely  give  him  nothing 
when  he  knew  of  their  engagement;  he 
would  certainly  not  let  them  come  to 
London,  but  he  hoped  he  would  gradually 
relent  if  he  worked  hard.  As  the  time 
got  shorter  and  they  approached  Manitou, 
he  said  he  hated  the  thought  of  leaving 
her,  but  he  knew  if  he  took  her  with  him 
it  would  be  "all  up"  with  him.  He  got 
more  and  more  tender  and  affectionate, 
holding  her  hand  and  every  now  and  then 
kissing  her.  She  had  never  known  any- 
one like  him  before,  he  behaved  like  a 
younger  brother  who  was  going  back  to 
school.  jMammy  had  always  said  he  was 
a  baby.  One  thing  was  certain,  she  her- 
self would  have  to  be  the  one  to  manage 
everything;  she  would  have  to  show  that 
he  could,  that  he  must,  trust  to  her  judg- 
ment, do  always  what  she  advised. 


When  they  arrived  at  the  cottage 
Mrs.  Colhouse  was  sitting  outside  her 
door,  as  usual  talking  over  the  fence  to 
Mrs.  Shuter,  who  promptly  disappeared 
at  their  approach.  Telling  Richard  to 


124       ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

stay  outside  a  moment,  Elinor  kissed  her 
mother  and  drew  her  into  the  sitting- 
room.  "We're  married,"  she  said 
triumphantly. 

Mrs.  Colhouse  gave  a  gasp  and,  putting 
her  hand  to  her  heart,  subsided  on  to  the 
sofa. 

"Married!     Nell!" 

"So  that's  done."  Elinor  subcon- 
sciously repeated  Richard's  words  after 
they  had  shot  the  rapids,  "but  we're  only 
saying  we're  engaged- — for  the  present." 

Mrs.  Colhouse  was  too  astonished  to 
speak. 

"And  he's  going  back  to  Cliftonburg 
to-night.  He  doesn't  want  his  father 
and  mother  to  know  till  after  his  uncle 
gets  back  and  makes  it  all  right  with 
them." 

"To  think  of  your  being  married  to 
that  boy!  You  scarcely  know  him." 

"I  know  him  more  than  you  think." 

Without  waiting  to  hear  what  her 
mother  might  say,  she  went  to  the  door. 
"Come  in,  Richard.  I've  told  mammy 
we're  married." 

For  an  instant  the  boy  looked  at  her 
and  at  her  mother,  who  still  sat  half- 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE       125 

collapsed  on  the  sofa.  Then  he  went 
forward  and,  bending  down,  kissed  Mrs. 
Colhouse  on  the  cheek. 

"I  shall  call  you  mammy  now,"  he  said 
gaily.  "I  hope  you  aren't  upset.  Elinor 
and  I  thought  it  the  best  thing  to  do;  it 

wasn't  any  use  writing  and — and " 

He  stopped  and  looked  again  from  one  to 
the  other. 

Mrs.  Colhouse  folded  her  hands,  inter- 
lacing the  fingers,  her  head  was  bent  and 
she  did  not  speak. 

The  boy  sat  down  by  her  and  put  his 
hand  on  hers.  "You  aren't  unhappy,  are 
you,  Mrs.  Colhouse — mammy,  I  mean? 
I  know  it's  rather  a — rather  hasty — but 
everything  is  all  right,  isn't  it,  Elinor?" 

He  looked  up  at  his  wife  appealingly. 

Elinor  was  thinking  how  foolish  he  was 
behaving.  Why  couldn't  he  be  stronger, 
more  manly? 

"All  right?  Of  course  it  is.  We 
love  each  other,  mammy,  that's  all  there 
is  to  it,  and  Richard  wanted  to  make  sure 
of  me.  But  so  far  as  everyone  else  is 
doncerned,  we're  only  engaged  as  yet. 
I'll  tell  you  everything  by  degrees;  there's 
not  much  time  before  he  goes." 


126       ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

Elinor  took  Richard  up  to  her  room 
and  brought  him  a  can  of  water  with  her 
own  hands. 

"Oh,  I'm  so  sorry;  thanks,  thanks,"  he 
relieved  her  of  it  and  kissed  her.  "What 
a  jolly  little  room."  He  looked  round. 
"I  say,  what  a  lot  of  clothes!" 

Indeed  they  were  everywhere,  hung  on 
pegs  on  the  wall,  on  the  door  and  in  band- 
boxes piled  on  each  other  in  the  corners 
and  even  under  the  bed. 

He  poured  water  into  the  basin,  re- 
marking: "I'll  hurry  up  and  get  out  of 
your  way." 

What  a  curious  creature  he  was.  He 
was  here  in  her  room,  where  she  slept 
and  had  her  intimate  being,  and  he  was  as 
unconscious  of  it  all,  apparently,  as 
though  she  were  his  sister.  Would  he 
always  be  like  that?  She  stood  an  instant 
looking  at  him  as  he  plunged  his  face  into 
the  basin,  making  the  water  bubble  as  he 
snorted  in  it.  Had  she  gone  too  fast  and 
too  far?  Was  it  possible  that  she  could 
no  longer  rely  on  rousing  his  feelings? 
He  had  shown  passion  enough  that  one 
evening.  She  went  softly  out  of  the 
room,  casting  the  problem  over  in  her 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE       127 

mind,  and  had  hardly  reached  the  bottom 
of  the  stairs  when  he  rejoined  her. 

At  supper  a  magnificent  box  of  choco- 
lates made  its  appearance  with  the  name 
of  a  well-known  New  York  candy  store 
on  the  lid.  Elinor  had  herself  placed  it 
on  the  table;  it  might  be  a  good  or  a  bad 
move  to  reveal  the  name  of  the  sender. 
She  hadn't  made  up  her  mind  when  an 
innocent  comment  by  Mrs.  Colhouse 
settled  the  question. 

"Mr.  Galton  has  spread  himself,  Nell." 

Elinor  looked  at  Richard.  His  face 
was  black,  and  from  then  on  he  was  silent. 

Ought  she  to  be  pleased  or  the  reverse? 
It  certainly  gratified  her  to  see  that  he 
cared  enough  to  be  so  violently  jealous, 
for  it  could  be  nothing  but  jealousy.  But 
she  didn't  intend  giving  up  her  right  to 
harmless  attentions  such  as  boxes  of 
candy. 

They  had  no  sooner  risen  from  the 
table  than  he  led  her  outside. 

He  began  angrily:  "How  dare  that  cad 
Galton  send  you  that  box  of  sweets?  You 
oughtn't  to  accept  presents  from  him;  you 
know  the  sort  of  man  he  is." 


128       ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

"How  was  I  to  know  who  sent  it?  I 
saw  a  box  addressed  to  me  and  opened 
it,  and  there  was  his  card  inside." 

"You  ought  to  have  sent  it  back.  Give 
it  to  me.  I'll  jolly  well  show  him  that 


"Richard,  dear,  don't  be  angry  about 
nothing.  It  would  make  me  ridiculous  if 
you  were  to  send  it  back  now;  we've  eaten 
half  the  top  layer." 

"I  wish  I'd  known.  Look  here,  Elinor, 
don't  you  write  him.  Give  me  his  beastly 
card  and  I'll  answer  him.  Where  is  it?" 

"I  don't  know,  I  think  I  threw  it  away." 
Elinor  had  carefully  preserved  it,  regard- 
ing the  superscription:  "To  the  loveliest 
of  southern  belles  from  her  fervent  ad- 
mirer" as  highly  flattering. 

"Will  you  promise  me  never  to  write  to 
him?"  Richard  spoke  earnestly. 

"Yes,  dearest,  I  do  promise  you.  You 
have  a  right  to  it." 

He  seized  her  hand  and,  kissing  it,  said: 
"Thank  you;  thank  you." 

They  went  in  and  sat  down  together 
on  the  sofa.  Mrs.  Colhouse  had  disap- 
peared, the  help  was  clearing  the  table. 

"The  thought  of  that  man  Galton  re- 
minds me  of  Cliftonburg.  He  makes  me 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE       129 

long  for  England.  I  believe  I'm  home- 
sick." 

Elinor  had  never  in  her  life  experienced 
that  emotion  and  could  not  imagine  it. 

"You  see,  here  in  America  no  one 
cares  about  anything  but  money  or  what 
they  call  amusement.  Everything  seems 
to  be  moving,  everyone  is  in  a  hurry, 
there's  no  time  for  anything.  I  like  to 
sit  down  and  read  sometimes  or  have  a 
quiet  talk,  but  at  Cliftonburg  they  never 
stop  at  home:  they're  either  at  business  or 
in  bars.  I  do  hate  the  place."  He  broke 
off  abruptly. 

She  thoroughly  disliked  her  own  people, 
but  her  idea  of  life  was  certainly  not 
sitting  in  one's  house  and  reading. 

"I  can't  tell  you  how  I  hate  going 
back  to  Cliftonburg.  The  governor's  one 
idea  is  work — work  for  its  own  sake. 
He'd  rather  walk  up  hill  than  drive  just 
because  it's  more  disagreeable,  and  yet  he 
always  says  he  doesn't  want  me  to  go 
into  his  business." 

"Not  go  into  his  business !  Surely  you 
don't  mean  to  miss  such  a  chance  as  that?" 

"I  suppose  it  would  be  the  best  way  to 
make  money.  But  I  want  to  know 


130       ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

Europe  and  see  beautiful  things  and  read 
and  think.  That's  living:  sitting  in  an 
office  isn't." 

For  Elinor,  Europe  was  Paris  and 
London,  and  perhaps  Switzerland,  where 
she  knew  people  went  to  see  the  moun- 
tains. She  had  also  heard  that  Rome 
was  fashionable  and  she  knew  that  several 
New  York  society  girls  had  married 
Italian  princes  and  counts.  But  this  idea 
of  moving  about  to  see  what  he  called 
beautiful  things  and  think  about  them, 
must  be  crushed  at  all  costs.  The  idea 
of  settling  down  to  a  small  income  in 
order  to  loaf,  when  he  could  make  a  pile, 
once  he  got  into  his  father's  business! 
She  must  get  that  out  of  his  head. 

"Richard,  dear,  haven't  you  got  a  little 
off  the  track?  You  said  you  meant  to 
work  for  my  sake,  didn't  you,  and  that 
you  could  do  a  lot  in  a  short  time  so  that 
when  your  uncle  got  back  he'd  put  things 
right?" 

He  jumped  up  and  took  a  few  steps  as 
though  he  were  shaking  something  off, 
then  plopped  down  beside  her  again  on 
the  sofa. 

"Of  course,  dear  girl,  of  course. 
You're  quite  right.  I'll  stick  to  my  work; 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE        131 

you  can  count  on  me."  He  put  his  arm 
round  her  and  kissed  her.  She  deter- 
mined to  improve  the  occasion. 

"Believe  me,  Richard,"  she  said,  with 
great  earnestness,  "money  is  the  one  thing 
that  matters;  you  can  do  all  the  other 
things  afterwards.  I've  seen  enough  to 
know.  Leisure  means  loafing.  My  father 
had  that  sort  of  notion  about  money  not 
mattering  and  poor  mammy  and  I  have 
paid  for  it.  You  don't  want  me  to  go  on 
paying  all  my  life,  do  you?" 

He  kissed  her  again.  "You  shan't  pay. 
I'll  work.  I  promise  you  I'll  work  as  I 
never  have  before.  Now  I  shall  be  going 
in  a  few  minutes.  I  haven't  got  much 

money  but  I  can "  He  put  his  hand 

into  his  inner  pocket. 

She  stopped  him  at  once.  "Not  a 
cent,  Richard — not  till  we're  together.  I 
couldn't." 

"Why    not?     You're    my   wife    now." 

She  half  closed  her  eyes  and  looked 
away  sadly.  "Not  properly  yet,  dear." 

He  ran  his  hand  through  his  hair  and 
held  it  over  his  forehead;  he  seemed  to  be 
puzzling  over  his  reply. 

"Not  properly  yet,"  he  repeated;  "no." 
He  dropped  on  his  knees  beside  her  and 


132      ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

grasped  her  hand,  holding  it  to  his  lips. 
"But  it  must  be  so — it  must — for  a  time. 
I  shall  always  be  thinking  of  you.  Prom- 
ise me,  if  you  need  anything  you'll  tell  me. 
I  shan't  spend  anything  scarcely  from  now 
on.  I  shall  save  every  penny  for  you." 

Elinor  leant  forward  and  kissed  him 
softly.  "I  promise." 

"I  shan't  go  anywhere  or  see  anyone. 
I  shall  just  work.  In  a  few  weeks  Uncle 

Theo  will  be  back,  and  then "  He 

kissed  her  again  and  strained  her  to  him. 
When  he  lifted  his  head,  tears  were  in  his 
eyes.  "I  only  realise  now  how  I  hate 
leaving  you."  He  stood  up,  gazing  at 
her.  "If  only  my  mother  knew  you!" 

When  he  had  gone  she  sat  down  and 
wrote  to  Mr.  Galton,  scolding  him  for 
sending  the  candies,  which  were  delicious, 
but  telling  him  he  mustn't  write  to  her 
or  send  her  anything  now  as  she  was 
engaged  to  Richard  Kurt.  Perhaps  they 
would  meet  again  after  she  was  married. 

iii 

During  the  forty-eight  hours  following 
Richard's  departure  Elinor  was  surprised 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE       133 

at  her  own  calmness.  Considering  the 
uncertainty  of  her  situation  she  had  good 
reason  to  feel  apprehensive.  An  affec- 
tionately worded  telegram  had  duly 
reached  her.  It  was  now  followed  by  a 
missive  of  a  different  description,  over 
which  she  was  still  puzzling.  It  had  been 
written  in  the  train  and  was  in  the  form 
of  a  poem,  called  The  Song  of  the  Wheel. 
It  was  absurd,  of  course,  but  it  afforded 
proof  of  his  continuous  thought  of  her 
during  his  journey.  There  were  certain 
lines  she  could  not  understand  and  they 
stuck  in  her  head,  absorbed  though  she 
was  in  edging  a  reconstructed  bodice  with 
passementerie.  She  laid  down  her  work 
and  read  it  again: 

Bumpety-bump,  jinkety-jink 

The  wheels  roll  on 

As  I  wretchedly  think. 

Tear  along,  rush  along, 

Hurry  and  speed, 

Give  me  the  furious  help  that  I  need 

To  stay  my  remorse, 

To  turn  me  to  steel. 

Save  my  heart  and  my  soul 

From  destruction,  O  wheel! 


134      ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

What  did  it  mean?  What  was  the  re- 
morse about  and  why  did  he  want  to  be 
turned  into  steel?  And  why  were  his 
heart  and  soul  in  danger  of  destruction? 
After  several  minutes  of  brow-contract- 
ing reflection  Elinor  gave  it  up  and  went 
on  with  her  work,  deciding  that  it  wasn't 
worth  bothering  about  and  just  meant 
nothing  at  all. 

Something  more  exciting  drove  the 
silly  rhyme  out  of  her  head.  Mrs. 
Colhouse  entered  the  room  with  a 
telegram. 

"Cliftonburg  papers  announce  marriage 
of  course  am  denying  everything  as  you 
will  writing.  Kurt'' 

She  read  it  over  again,  threw  down  her 
work  and  exclaimed  "It's  all  out." 

Tiresome  as  usual,  mammy  looked 
grave.  "I  can't  see  why  you  should  be 
pleased  at  that." 

"Oh,  can't  you?  Well,  send  that  slut 
for  a  paper." 

Elinor  quickly  threw  off  her  neglige, 
dressed  herself  and  went  downstairs. 

Her  mother  was  poring  over  the  paper. 
She  seized  it  from  her  and  read: 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE        135 


SOUTHERN  BELLE  ELOPES  WITH 
WEALTHY  ENGLISHMAN 

EARL'S  GRANDSON  WEDS  DAUGHTER 
OF  DR.  COLHOUSE  OF  WATERVILLE 

According  to  the  whole-column  account, 
Miss  Elinor  Colhouse,  daughter  of  the 
celebrated  physican  Dr.  Colhouse  of 
Waterville,  famed  for  her  beauty  even  in 
a  land  where  beauty  was  a  woman's  birth- 
right, had  eloped  with  Mr.  Richard  Kurt, 
son  of  Mr.  William  Kurt,  the  world- 
famous  banker  of  London,  and  nephew  of 
the  honoured  president  of  the  C.  W. 
&  M.  "It  will  interest  our  readers  to 
hear  that  Mr.  Richard  Kurt's  mother  is 
of  a  noble  English  family,  though  her 
son,  with  true  patrician  modesty,  does  not 
advertise  the  fact."  The  article  termin- 
ated by  wishing  happiness  to  the  young 
couple. 

At  the  first  reading  Elinor's  eagerness 
was  so  great  that  she  only  skimmed  it, 
the  second  time  she  felt  that  she  had  not 
read  it  as  thoroughly  as  it  deserved,  the 
third  time  she  read  it  aloud. 


136       ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

Mrs.  Colhouse  gazed  speechlessly  at 
Elinor,  who  calmly  folded  the  paper  and 
put  it  under  the  clock  on  the  mantelpiece. 
"Now,  I'm  going  out  for  a  little." 

"Do  you  think  that's  right,  Nell? 
You're  sure  to  meet  someone  who'll  ask 
questions." 

"Suppose  I  do?  I  guess  I'll  know 
what  to  say." 

"Are  you  going  to  deny  it?" 

"I  shan't  say  one  way  or  the  other." 

She  didn't  mean  to  miss  the  full  enjoy- 
ment to  be  got  out  of  the  sensation  and 
made  straight  for  the  hotel.  While  she 
was  asking  the  reception  clerk  to  reserve 
a  good  double  bedroom  and  bathroom  for 
a  friend  she  was  expecting,  someone 
addressed  her  by  name.  Turning  round, 
she  found  herself  face  to  face  with  Mr. 
M'Alpin. 

"Oh,  Miss  Colhouse"  he  gasped  effu- 
sively "may  I  congratulate  you?  We're 
all  thrilled  by  the  news." 

Elinor  drew  herself  up  and  stared 
blankly  at  him.  "What  news?"  she  asked 
with  hauteur. 

"Isn't  it  true  then?" 

"I  don't  know  what  you're  alluding 
to?" 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE       137 

With  an  expression  of  astonishment  he 
fetched  The  Detroit  Free  Press  and 
pointed  with  his  finger  at  the  front  page. 
Taking  it  from  him,  she  read  it  through 
and  lifted  her  eyebrows.  "They  seem 
to  know  all  about  it." 

She  handed  the  paper  back  and  bowed 
coldly.  Passing  through  the  midst  of  a 
number  of  guests  whose  gestures  showed 
that  they  had  been  closely  observing 
M'Alpin  and  herself  she  departed  with 
dignity. 

As  she  had  anticipated,  the  next  morn- 
ing brought  her  a  telegram  from  Richard 
announcing  his  arrival  the  following  day, 
adding,  however,  something  she  was  less 
prepared  for  but  which  delighted  her 
still  more. 

"Be  ready   accompany  me  back  here." 

She  gave  it  to  her  mother  to  read. 

"So  he's  going  to  take  you  back  with 
him?" 

"Of  course  he  is  and  I've  ordered  a 
room  at  the  hotel." 

"A  room  at  the  hotel — what  for?" 

"For  Richard  and  myself  of  course. 
Now  I  guess  we'll  get  busy,  mammy. 


138       ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

There's  that  mauve  crepe  de  Chine  to 
finish  and  the  red  blouse.  You  can  send 
the  black  taffeta  on." 

iv 

She  met  Richard  at  the  station.  His 
face  was  pallid,  there  were  dark  lines 
under  his  eyes.  But  his  clothes  to  her 
satisfaction  were  as  immaculate  as  ever. 

He    embraced    her    warmly    but    his 
manner  was  serious. 

"I've  taken  a  room  at  the  hotel,"  she 
said. 

"I  don't  want  to  go  there.  I  want  to 
go  somewhere  we  can  talk." 

"Of  course,  dear,  I  meant  we  can 
sleep  there." 

A  look  of  sudden  realization  crossed 
his  features.  "Oh,  of  course !  Isn't 
there  a  room  for  me  at  the  cottage? 
Anything  will  do  for  one  night.  We'll 
leave  by  the  morning  train.  Are  you 
ready?" 

"Packed  to  the  last  hairpin,"  she  an- 
swered like  a  competent  quartermaster- 
general. 

"I'll  just  leave  my  bag  at  the  cottage 
for  now,  I  want  to  be  in  the  air.  I 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE       139 

haven't  slept  a  wink,  my  head  feels  as  if 
it  would  burst." 

They  walked  out  of  the  station,  she 
with  her  arm  in  his. 

"Tell  me  everything,  Richard,  from 
the  beginning." 

"I  will — gradually.  You  must  give  me 
time.  My  brain's  not  working  yet.  I 
tried  to  write  but  I  had  to  give  it  up. 
Besides,  everything's  changed  now." 

"I  got  the  poem." 

"The  poem,"  he  repeated,  adding  as 
though  in  an  afterthought  "Oh,  that. 
That's  all  changed  too,  everything's 

changed "  he  stood  still.  trL  don't 

know  where  I  am — really."  He  looked 
closely  at  her,  his  eyes  wandered  down  her. 
She  had  a  light-coloured  linen  skirt  and 
wore  a  fawn  foulard  scarf  round  her  neck. 
They  were  standing  at  the  side  of  the 
dusty  road  under  a  tree  to  let  a  buggy 
pass.  Elinor  recognized  M'Alpin  driv- 
ing his  trotting  horse  and  ignored  his  sal- 
utation. Richard  put  his  bag  down  and 
fumbled  in  his  waistcoat  pocket,  extract- 
ing a  little  cardboard  box.  out  of  which 
he  took  a  tiny  package  of  tissue  paper. 
"Take  off  your  glove,  dear," 


140       ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

The  glove  fitted  closely;  he  was  impa- 
tient, shaky.  Intending  to  help  her,  he 
pulled  at  the  finger-tips  and  let  the  ring 
fall  into  a  heap  of  dust. 

"I  don't  see  why  you  had  to  do  that 
now — in  the  public  road." 

He  was  stooping  down  and  looking  for 
the  ring.  "I  couldn't  wait"  he  said  with- 
out looking  up  "here  it  is." 

He  pulled  out  his  handkerchief  and 
wiped  it  carefully,  took  the  third  finger 
of  her  left  hand  and  slipped  the  ring  over 

it.  "It's  rather  large,  I'm  afraid " 

holding  her  fingers  in  his  palm,  "I 
thought  you'd  like  it  better  than  the 
ordinary  affair." 

She  twisted  the  little  curb  chain  round 
and  round  her  tapering  finger  with  its 
fong,  pointed  nail,  looking  at  it  critically. 

"It's  very  pretty:  so  unusual." 

At  the  cottage  Mrs.  Colhouse  was  dis- 
creetly out  of  the  way.  Richard  depos- 
ited his  bag. 

"Let's  go  out  at  once,"  he  said. 

She  stood  in  front  of  him.  She  knew 
she  was  looking  simple,  sweet,  captivat- 
ing, and  he  behaved  as  though  he  saw 
nothing.  What  was  he  made  of? 

Suddenly   as   though   a   new   idea   had 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE       141 

struck  him,  he  put  his  arm  round  her 
waist  and  kissed  her  several  times. 

"I  thought  you'd  forgotten  my  exist- 
ence." 

He  took  hold  of  her  hand.  "You 
mustn't  judge  me  now.  I'm  not  alto- 
gether responsible." 

They  walked  slowly  in  the  direction  of 
the  lake.  He  stopped  again  in  that 
sudden  way  of  his. 

"Let's  go  where  we  went  that  first 
day." 

She  made  use  of  the  glance  with  half- 
closed  lids.  It  was  a  good  serviceable 
expression,  meaning  several  different 
things  and  applicable  in  varying  situa- 
tions. It  was  at  once  equivocal  and  elo- 
quent. The  moment  pointed  to  the  van- 
ity of  words,  they  were  both  face  to  face 
with  fact,  they  were  married1. 

They  reached  the  gate,  the  bars  of 
which  lay  on  the  ground,  apparently  as 
they  had  left  them.  He  stood  looking  at 
them,  then  at  her.  They  went  on  slowly 
and  in  silence.  She  could  observe  him 
cautiously  out  of  the  corner  of  her  eye, 
his  were  on  the  ground. 

They  reached  the  felled  trees  and  again 
he  stood  still  observing  them  as  though' 


142       ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

he  wanted  to  photograph  them  on  his 
mind.  He  threw  down  his  stick  and  laid 
his  jacket  on  them  as  before.  "Wait  a 
second  though."  He  picked  up  the  jacket 
again  and  feeling  in  the  pockets,  took  out 
a  folded  newspaper,  a  cigarette-case  and 
matches.  She  sat  down  and  he  lighted  a 
cigarette,  seating  himself  in  front  of  her 
on  the  scrubby  grass.  He  drew  a  deep 
whiff  or  two. 

"The  first  person  I  saw  when  I  got  to 
Cliftonburg  was  a  chap  called  Jim  Bald- 
win, and  the  first  thing  he  did  was  to  stick 
the  damned  Enquirer  under  my  nose. 
Here  it  is." 

Elinor  took  the  paper.  Except  for  ad- 
ditional embroidery  suitable  to  Clifton- 
burg  taste,  it  was  a  duplicate  of  what  she 
had  already  seen.  She  passed  the  paper 
back  to  him  without  comment;  it  seemed 
wisest  to  say  nothing. 

"You  can  imagine  my  feelings.  If  it 
was  in  The  Enquirer,  it  would  be  in  every 
paper  in  the  States.  Jim  stared  at  me 
with  a  silly  grin  on  his  face,  waiting  to 
hear  what  I  had  to  say."  Richard 
stopped  and  looked  at  her.  "I  know 
you're  thinking  what  a  fool  I  was  to  deny 
it.  I  dare  say  I  was  a  fool.  Anyhow,  it 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE       143 

doesn't  matter  now  one  way  or  the  other. 
I  was  thinking,  how  did  it  come 
out?  who's  done  this?  while  I  was 
denying  it.  Naturally  Jim  didn't  believe 
me,  said  it  was  sure  to  come  out.  But 
I  stuck  to  it  like  Peter  and  kept  repeating 
'It's  a  damned  lie,'  hardly  knowing  what 
I  was  saying.  In  a  place  like  Clifton- 
burg  more  people  know  Tom  Fool  than 
Tom  Fool  knows." 

Elinor  thought  he  uttered  the  last 
words  bitterly. 

He  lit  another  cigarette.  "It  seemed 
to  me  that  everyone  had  read  that 
damned  paper,  with  its  grandson  of  an 
earl,  world-famous  banker  and  the  rest  of 
it.  I  felt  I  could  sink  into  the  ground 
with  humiliation.  I  shall  never  forget 
that  morning,  not  if  I  live  "for  ever.  It's 
the  awful  ghastly  caddishness  of  it  all." 

Elinor  couldn't  for  the  life  of  her  see  it 
in  that  light.  She  understood  his  being 
taken  by  surprise  and  worried  by  their 
marriage  coming  out;  it  had  upset  all  his 
plans  and  he  was  naturally  afraid  of  the 
consequences,  but  she  failed  to  see  any- 
thing humiliating  in  the  publicity  from 
any  point  of  view.  As  far  as  she  per- 
sonally was  concerned,  it  was  a  glorious 


144       ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

triumph.  Whether  he  was  the  grandson 
of  an  earl  or  not  everyone  would  think  so 
and  that  was  what  mattered.  But  she 
had  no  intention  of  telling  him  how  she 
felt;  on  the  contrary  she  would  adopt  his 
point  of  view  externally. 

"Yes.  It  is  caddish  of  course  but  you 
know  what  newspapers  are." 

"Caddish.  American  papers  are  the 
most  poisonous  on  earth.  They're  un- 
fit for — for — I  won't  say  what  they're 
unfit  for  and  the  men  who  write  for  them 
are  unscrupulous  blackguards.  The  fellow 
who  stuck  that  in  ought  to  be  horse- 
whipped. And  if  I  knew  who  he  was, 
I'd " 

Elinor  almost  gasped  her  relief.  So  he 
didn't  suspect  even  now ! 

He  mastered  his  anger  and  began 
again. 

"I  couldn't  face  going  to  the  office.  I 
took  a  cable  car  instead  and  went  right  up 
to  Chestnut  Hills — out  into  the  country 
— 1  wanted  to  go  where  I  could  think.  I 
must  have  walked  a  longish  way  and  all 
the  time  I  was  turning  things  over  in  my 
mind.  But  I  couldn't  decide.  At  the 
end  I  was  as  uncertain  as  at  the  beginning. 
When  I  got  back,  there  were  three  re- 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE       145 

porters  waiting  for  me.  Was  it  true  that 
I  was  married,  The  Evening  Post  said  it 
had  authority  to  deny  it?  Was  that 
true?  I  told  them  I  had  nothing  to  say, 
that  whether  I  was  married  or  unmarried 
concerned  nobody  but  the  lady  and  my- 
self." He  blew  a  long  breath  through 
his  lips  without  looking  at  Elinor.  He 
had  been  talking  as  though  his  narrative 
concerned  no  one  in  particular,  as  though 
it  were  more  than  anything  else  a  relief  to 
his  own  feelings.  She  had  been  follow- 
ing the  recital  intently,  anxious  not  to 
miss  a  word.  She  saw  herself  cast  for 
the  most  interesting  part  in  the  drama. 
All  over  the  American  continent  people 
would  be  reading  about  her,  it  was  in- 
tensely moving  and  exciting. 

"There's  more  yet.  While  I  was 
getting  rid  of  the  reporters,  the  telephone 
rang.  It  was  Dr.  Flossheim.  He's  my 
uncle's  best  friend  in  America.  It  was  he 
who  sent  me  north  because  I'd  had  rather 
a  bad  go  of  a  sort  of  cholera." 

"Is  he  a  Jew?" 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so.  He's  far  and 
away  the  whitest  man  in  Cliftonburg,  the 
only  European.  I  went  straight  off  to  see 
him.  You  don't  know  how  I  felt  when  he 


146       ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

put  his  arm  on  my  shoulder."  He 
turned  his  head  away  to  master  himself. 

"I  tried  to  deny  it  all  at  first  but  he 
knew  at  once  and  I  knew  he  knew.  He 
told  me  there  was  nothing  to  be  ashamed 
of.  I  might  have  been  foolish  or  wise, 
that  depended  on  the  girl.  He  asked  who 
you  were  and  I  told  him  all  I  knew.  It 
wasn't  much,  of  course.  I  told  him  your 
father  was  a  doctor  and  lived  in  Water- 
ville  and  he  took  a  directory  of  doctors' 
names  off  the  top  of  his  writing-desk,  but 
he  couldn't  find  your  father's.  He 
asked  me  if  I  was  sure  your  father  was  a 
doctor.  I  told  him  of  course.  He  didn't 
say  any  more  about  that  but  asked  me 
about  you.  And  I  told  him  every- 
thing  " 

Elinor  started.  "Everything?  What 
do  you  mean  by  everything?" 

"I  told  him  how  pretty  you  are  and 
how  I'd  fallen  in  love  with  you  and  all 
that  and  how  we'd  gone  up  to  St.  Mary's 
and  I  couldn't — I  couldn't — you  know 
what  I  mean." 

Elinor  was  roused.  For  the  first  time 
she  had  a  feeling  of  discomfort,  if  not 
apprehension.  She  sat  up  straight  and 
looked  very  sharply  at  him. 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE       147 

"No;  I  don't  know.  What  did  you  say 
— exactly?" 

"I  said  that  I  had  meant  only  to  be  en- 
gaged to  you  but  that — that  it  wouldn't 
have  been  fair  to  you — that  I  felt  I 
couldn't  leave  you  like  that  and  that  we 
both  decided  to  get  married  and  keep  it  a 
secret.  And  I  told  him  about  the 
O'Haras  being  there — and  all  that." 

Richard  had  ceased  speaking  to  the  air, 
he  was  looking  her  straight  in  the  face 
now.  Elinor  listened  eagerly. 

"What  did  he  say  then?" 

"I  don't  think  he  said  anything.  He 
took  up  a  paper  and  handed  it  to  me,  it 
was  a  cable  from  my  Uncle  Theo.  I 
don't  remember  the  words  exactly,  some- 
thing like  this: 

'New  York  Herald  Paris  states 
Richard  married.  His  parents  very 
anxious  kindly  obtain  information  and 
cable  fully.'  " 

Richard  pulled  out  a  cigarette  and  lit  it, 
rose  to  his  feet  and  took  a  few  steps,  then 
stood  in  front  of  her  again. 

"When  I  read  that,  I  felt  as  though  the 
ground  had  given  way  under  me.  Of 
course  I  was  a  damned  fool  not  to  have 


148       ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

realised  that  it  would  be  cabled  over  but 
up  to  that  second  it  never  occurred  to  me. 
I  read  it  over  and  over  again.  Those 
words  on  that  bit  of  paper  were  Uncle 
Theo's.  It  seemed  impossible — so  quickly, 
before  I'd  had  time  even  to  think,  be- 
before  I  could  write  and  explain  or  do  any- 
thing, I  don't  remember  what  I  said  then. 
The  next  thing  I  recall  is  that  he  showed 
me  a  cable  he  had  been  writing.  I  re- 
member that: 

"  'Richard   married    to   very    nice   girl 
cable  instructions.' 

'I  shall  send  this  now,'  he  said,  'and  your 
uncle  will  receive  it  in  London  to-morrow 
morning.  Go  to  Manitou  at  once  and 
bring  her  back  here.  By  to-morrow 
evening  I  shall  have  a  reply.'  Before 
he  said  good-bye  he  told  me  not  to  worry, 
he  was  sure  everything  would  be  all  right. 
Now  my  people  knew,  I  could  be  above- 
board.  And  I  thought  of  how  much 
worse  it  might  have  been.  If  it  hadn't 
been  for  him  I  should  have  gone  on  deny- 
ing it  and "  He  laughed  in  a  curious 

forced  way  so  that  she  stared  at  him,  sur- 
prised. 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE       149 

"What's  coming  is  the  best.  The  next 
morning  I'd  packed  my  bag  and  was  hav- 
ing breakfast  when  all  of  a  sudden  I  heard 
a  loud  voice  in  the  hall.  I  went  to  the 
door  and  there  I  saw  a  short,  thick-set 
chap.  He  was  shouting  in  old  darkie 
Enoch's  ear  that  he  wanted  to  see  me. 
When  he  caught  sight  of  me,  he  came 
forward  and  said:  'Mr.  Richard  Kurt,  I 
want  a  word  with  you.'  I  took  him  into 
the  dining-room.  'I'm  Joe  Colhouse. 
Are  you  married  to  my  sister  or  are  you 
not?  That's  what  I'm  here  to  know.'  ' 

Richard  jumped  to  his  feet  and  laughed 
again. 

"I  don't  see  anything  funny  in  that, 
American  men  feel  that  way  about  the 
honour  of  their  women." 

Richard  laughed  no  longer.  "We 
soon  made  friends,  Joe's  a  very  good  sort. 
He  showed  me  his  pistol,  he  called  it  a 
gun,  and  told  me  that  he  was  right  glad 
he  hadn't  shown  it  to  me  another  way. 
He's  coming  to  meet  us  at  Cliftonburg  as 
soon  as  we  get  there.  I've  got  to  the 
end  of  my  story  now." 

He  threw  himself  down  on  the  grass 
and  rested  his  forehead  on  his  arms. 

"Then  we  might  as  well  go  back  to  the 


150      ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

cottage,"  Elinor  suggested.  He  had 
apparently  told  her  all  there  was  to  tell 
and  it  was  getting  late;  supper  would  be 
ready  and  they  had  to  get  up  to  the  hotel. 

They  walked  along  some  distance  in 
silence  till  he  said:  "I  want  your  mother 
to  know  everything." 

Elinor  wondered  why  he  said  that. 
"Of  course  you  can  tell  it  all  over  again 
to  her  if  you  like."  She  was  unable  to 
resist  putting  a  contemptuous  tone  into 
her  voice. 

He  shot  a  quick  glance  at  her. 
"Thanks,  I  don't  think  I'll  do  that.  I'm 
not  pleased  enough  with  myself  to  want 
to  repeat  it." 

She  was  puzzled  again.  Why  couldn't 
he  say  what  he  meant  instead  of  implying 
all  sorts  of  things?  "What  are  you 
specially  displeased  about?"  she  asked. 

He  seemed  to  close  his  lips  and  he 
didn't  look  at  her  as  he  answered: 
"Everything." 

"I  suppose  you  include  our  being 
married."  She  was  being  purposely  pro- 
vocative. She  would  rather  have  it  out 
and  have  done  with  it. 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE        151 

"Since  you  asked  me,  yes,"  he  answered 
firmly. 

She  stood  still. 

"You  mean  you  wish  you  hadn't 
married  me?" 

Something  within  drove  her  forward, 
drove  her  as  a  murderer  is  driven  to  the 
spot  where  he  committed  his  crime. 

"Look  here,  Elinor.  Don't  make  me 
say  things  I  don't  want  to  say.  You 
know  I  never  wanted  to  get  married — in 
this  sort  of  way.  But  we  are  married 
and  whatever  happens,  I'm  going  to  do 
all  I  can." 

"Oh,  I  see."  Elinor's  expression  and 
voice  were  impregnated  with  irony. 
"You're  going  to  do  your  duty  under  the 
disagreeable  circumstances." 

"I  never  said  that.  What  I  said  be- 
fore, I  say  again.  It  was  wrong  to  get 
married  without  my  telling  my  people  and 
I'm  airaid  of  your  suffering  through  it. 
That's  what  I  meant  when  I  said  I  wanted 
your  mother  to  know  everything.  I  want 
her  to  know  what  I  said  on  the  boat  and 
afterwards  on  the  bridge  at  St.  Mary's. 
I  want  her  to  know  that  I  really  did  try 
to  prevent  all  this  happening." 


152      ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

His  voice  dropped  as  he  uttered  the 
last  words.  They  were  still  standing  at 
the  entrance  to  the  little  wood,  the  gate 
with  its  bars  off  was  just  in  front  of  them. 

"What  happening?"  Elinor  simply 
couldn't  grasp  what  he  was  alluding  to. 

"Can't  you  see  what  I  mean?  The 
whole  thing.  The  shock  to  my  people, 
the  disgusting  papers,  your  brother 
coming  after  me  as  though  I  were  a  sort 
of — I  don't  know  what." 

Certainly  the  Joe  episode  had  unneces- 
sarily complicated  matters,  but  what  did 
he  want  to  harp  on  that  for? 

"No  one  need  know  anything  about  Joe 
if  you  don't  tell  them." 

"Tell  them!"  he  looked  as  if  she'd 
struck  him.  "I'd  rather — oh,  Elinor — I 
wish  you  could  see  what  I  mean.  I  think 
your  mother  will  understand  better. 
That's  why  I  want  her  to  know." 

They  walked  on  but  she  was  still  mys- 
tified. What  did  he  want,  anyway? 
So  far  as  she  could  see,  everything  had 
turned  out  uncommonly  well. 


Reaching  the  cottage,  they  found  Mrs. 
Colhouse    awaiting    them    eagerly.     Yet 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE       153 

another    telegram    had    arrived.     It   was 
addressed  to  Richard. 

"Uncle  cables  you  are  to  take  your  wife 
to  his  house  see  me  on  arrival. 

"Flossheim." 

Elinor  ran  her  eyes  over  it.  "We're 
to  go  to  Richard's  uncle's  house  at  once, 
mammy." 

"Your  uncle  is  fine !"  Mrs.  Colhouse 
exclaimed. 

Richard  made  no  observation.  He  had 
taken  the  telegram  from  Elinor's  hand 
and  was  reading  it  over  and  over  again  as 
though  he  couldn't  believe  the  words. 

"Of  course  he  would  do  that.  It's  the 
right  way  to  behave.  I'm  his  niece  now." 
Elinor  was  exceedingly  pleased,  so  pleased 
that  going  close  to  Richard,  whose  eyes 
were  still  glued  to  the  telegram,  she  put 
her  arm  round  his  neck  and  kissed  him. 

"You'll  see,  everything  will  go  well 
now,  dear.  Don't  worry  any  more." 
Then  releasing  him,  "Let's  have  supper, 
mammy;  we've  got  to  go  to  the  hotel,  re- 
member, and  time's  getting  on." 

Richard  looked  up,  still  holding  the 
telegram.  "I  say,  don't  let's  go  to  that 
beastly  hotel." 


154      ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

Elinor  faced  round.  "You  don't  seem 
to  remember  there's  no  room  here." 

"I  don't  care.     I'll  sleep  on  the  sofa." 

What  sort  of  a  man  was  he  anyway? 
Within  ten  minutes  was  a  nice  comfort- 
able room,  she  was  his  newly  married 
wife;  and  he  preferred  sleeping  un- 
comfortably on  a  sofa  alone.  She  had 
engaged  the  room  and  M'Alpin  had  seen 
them.  Up  there  in  the  brightly  lit  hotel 
everyone  would  be  agog  to  see  them,  to 
see  her,  the  heroine  of  a  romance.  She 
had  pictured  it  all.  They  would  pass 
through  the  crowded  hall,  ignoring 
everyone.  It  would  take  a  few  minutes 
for  the  clerk  to  get  the  key  and  accom- 
pany them  to  the  elevator.  Very  likely 
M'Alpin  had  sent  flowers  up  to  their 
room.  Everyone's  eyes  would  be  upon 
her,  all  the  girls  would  be  wild  with  envy. 
Was  she  to  forgo  all  this  without  a  strug- 
gle? 

She  took  him  upstairs  to  her  room 
after  supper,  showed  him  her  two  beau- 
tifully packed  trunks,  and  a  large  New 
York  hatbox;  she  was  rightly  proud  of 
her  accomplished  packing. 

"And  here's  my  grip,  everything  for 
the  night,  and  I've  arranged  for  the  ex- 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE       15.5 

press-people  to  call  for  the  trunks  in  the 
morning.  I  thought  you'd  want  to  be 
alone  with  me,  dear."  She  turned  her 
eyes  down  and  tucked  in  the  lacy  neck  of 
the  nightgown  within  the  bag  while  she 
spoke.  She  couldn't  be  so  unrefined  as 
to  give  him  more  than  a  very  slight  hint. 
Would  he  take  it? 

"I  quite  understand,  dear,  very  thought- 
ful of  you.  But  I  can't  face  the  music, 
I'm  worn  out.  The  thought  of  a  hotel 
to-night  freezes  me.  I'd  much  rather 
sleep  on  the  sofa  downstairs." 

From  the  finality  in  his  tone  she  knew 
she  would  have  to  abandon  her  project. 
It  was  evident  that  he  was  incapable  of 
appreciating  a  girl's  feelings,  especially 
such  a  girl  as  she  was.  He  understood 
nothing.  This  might  be  the  very  last 
time  she  would  ever  see  Manitou,  that 
Manitou  would  see  her.  Yet  she  must 
slink  off  like  a  little  nobody.  Romance 
alone  entitled  her  to  play  her  part  but  she 
must  be  deprived  of  it  just  because  he  was 
disinclined  to  go  to  a  hotel.  And  he  was 
unfeeling  besides.  It  didn't  occur  to  him 
that  he  was  humiliating  her  by  showing 
he  preferred  being  alone  on  this  first  night 
that  they  could  openly  and  without  fear 


156       ELINOR    COLHOUSE 

of  consequences  be  man  and  wife  in  fact 
as  well  as  in  name.  She  wasn't  an 
animal  kind  of  woman,  thank  God. 

"You  needn't  think  I'm  specially  anx- 
ious to  share  a  room  with  you."  Her 
resentment  had  boiled  over,  she  couldn't 
keep  the  words  back. 

He  was  standing  beside  her  leaning 
against  the  bed  with  his  hand  on  the  edge 
of  the  bag.  At  these  words  he  stepped 
away  and  glared  at  her. 

"Elinor.  How  can  you  speak  like 
that?  I  don't  understand  you." 

She  drew  herself  up  haughtily.  "So  I 
observe.  I  shouldn't  try  if  I  were  you." 
She  turned  sharply  and  walked  out  of  the 
room. 

He  followed  her  slowly  downstairs  and 
seating  himself  near  her  mother,  began 
talking  as  though  nothing  special  had 
happened. 

It  was  maddening  her  to  see  how  little 
he  cared  but  she  wouldn't  show  it.  The 
sooner  he  learnt  that  she  could  be  as  in- 
different as  he  was,  the  better! 

After  supper  mammy  with  her  usual 
tactlessness  proposed  that  he  should  have 
her  room;  she'd  go  and  prepare  it  at 


ELINOR    COLHOUSE       157 

once,  Nell  and  she  could  sleep  together 
for  that  one  night. 

Richard  would  not  have  that,  he  would 
sleep  on  the  sofa,  he  said. 

Elinor  did  not  stay  to  hear  the  argu- 
ment out;  she  had  had  enough.  "Fight 
it  out  between  you.  Good-night." 

He  could  sleep  on  the  doormat  for  all 
she  cared. 


AL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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